


Monstrosity

by mister13eyond, tripleCrocodilian



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Emotional Manipulation, Hero Worship, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Pre-Canon, RP format, Roleplay Logs, Sans Needs A Hug, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Younger Brother Papyrus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:05:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 176,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mister13eyond/pseuds/mister13eyond, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tripleCrocodilian/pseuds/tripleCrocodilian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>W.D. Gaster is the royal scientist, and Sans is his intern. They're working on something big- something that could shape the future (and possibly the past) for monsters.  But there's a lot standing in the way- for one, Sans' hero-worship of Gaster, and Gaster's own slowly slipping morality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an adaptation of a roleplay that ran between myself and tripleCrocodilian for the course of about four months, from November of last year to February of this year (2016.) A few elements here and there may not line up with Undertale canon or recent discoveries thanks to the patch- that being said, consider this more a universe alteration set pre-game than an outright AU.  
> Altogether it's about 200,000 words, and aside from minor edits and some scenes that need expanding, it's complete. In keeping the RP format easy to read, I've left in small tags with an initial to separate each message. 
> 
> The whole RP has been shared via google docs for a few months now, but I figured it was about time I finally post it here. This huge slog is a labor of love, so I hope you can get as much out of it as we have.

**G** : It happens in the middle of puzzling over old readings, trying to perhaps pick out a pattern or any correlations that could lend a clue to causation. The buzz on his hip startles Gaster, the only sound he's heard other than papers shuffling and quiet breathing. His own gasp fills up the room as he checks his little pager and grins down at it.  
" _Sans_! " Oh. Asleep again. And on a set of readings, no less, no wonder it had been so quiet. Gaster reaches out a thin hand and curls it around a shoulder to shake Sans awake. "Come, now, no time for sleeping!"

  
S: "Not now, Pap, gotta." Sans yawns and blinks away the edges of fuzzy dreams before Gaster comes into focus, and then it's a scramble to cover up his sleep and arrange the papers into something that looks like he's been working. He sits up straight, the perfect portrait of attention, one hand covering the idle doodles at the corner of his notes.  
"Yeah, no, I was awake."

  
G: "Not important, just hurry." Oh goodness, is he grinning? No need to act so giddy about it, though he hasn't gotten a fresh reading in decades.  
"You bear witness to something great today, Sans, a real treat. Hurry, get out of that white coat and into something darker." He shrugs into his long black overcoat himself, the one that drags at his feet and seems to swallow him whole.

  
S: Sans shrugs off his lab coat and leaves it wadded on the table over his notes; it'll be fine.  
"We going somewhere dark, 'Ding?" His own black hoodie is thrown in a corner over a few jars of- something sludgy- and he slips into it. Pats down the pocket and finds his cell phone still in it (well, that's good) but doesn't check it for now. He won't quite cut the tall, intimidating silhouette Gaster does, but he's fine with that. Sans is fine with most things. "Haven't done field work in forever."

  
G: Gaster checks himself in the shiny surface of one of the machines, the curve of it stretching his already elongated form. Not bad. Appearances are important for this.  
"We have not had work to do in the field in forever. Come! Come come, we must hurry before they get any further." He sweeps out in a rush of black, thoughtless of whether Sans follows or not.

  
S: Hotland is always. Well, so hot . The lab is cool, deeper underground, darker. Or maybe it's all the fans installed in it. Back up into the sweltering heat near the core, though, and Sans starts to feel thankful he's got no meat on him to sizzle at this temperature.  
Gaster always moves quicker than Sans' short legs can keep up to, so he takes double steps to catch up. He's sort of rambling about something, and Gaster isn't listening, probably, but who particularly minds?  
"- no need cars for down here, anyways, but have you SEEN them? Got Papyrus caught up in it too, but he's not looking at the blueprints like I am. They've got hybrids that work with both electricity and fossil fuels, man."

  
G: Ah, this means there will be a new timeline to account for.. Gaster's hands fidget, voicing his thoughts even while they change and switch direction, caught between distraction and elation.  
"Heat. Heat constantly generates, no need for fuel when we have natural processes." But that is old news, too old for this right now. Another beep comes through, and he checks it. "Waterfall."

  
S: "Know a shortcut?" Gaster usually knows a shortcut. Sans checks his phone for the time. He takes an edge of Gaster's coat in one hand so he doesn't lose him in the process.  
"Travelling with steam vents is overrated. Travelling on foot takes too long. There's so much space up there, that's why they need cars." Sans laughs under his breath. "Space and the time to traverse it. Lead the way."

  
G: "Don't I always?" Gaster drops a hand to Sans' shoulder again and takes his shortcut, just a slight glitch in space. One of his more useful experiments, and easy enough to teach. Later, however. For now..  
Ah, this place is always so serene. It almost makes him wish he could move the lab, but his work demands great amounts of energy that they simply cannot pipe this far out from the core. And perhaps that is something to work on later... No, they have too exciting a task for distractions. "Do you know where we are going, Sans?"

  
S: Sans tugs the hood up on his jacket and pulls the drawstrings back and forth through it. The rush of water means Gaster's quiet voice is a little harder to hear, so Sans sticks closer by.  
"I'm going to guess not to Grillby's." He checks his phone again. The time is exactly two minutes before the last time he checked it. Weird little side effect of the shortcuts. "We don't need more echo flowers, do we?"

  
G: "Ah! Aha !" Sans is funny in very innocent ways, though sometimes he doesn't mean to be.  
"Dear boy, you have no idea!" His hands come together again, clapping together just once. "A human has come to us again, after so long. After years and years of waiting and sitting on the same figures I've had for ages."

  
S: "Whoah." Sans actually pauses in his tracks, stuffs his hands in his hoodie pockets.  
_That's something new_.  
It'll actually be his first time encountering one. He's seen the souls, of course, in their little jars. The figures, the statistics, the notes.  
He's never _seen_ one, though.  
He walks faster to catch up with Gaster. "I hear they're dangerous, though. And kill monsters. And always seem to have a _bone_ to pick with us."

  
G: Gaster laughs, privately and then a little louder.  
"There is reason for that. If I am correct. I must be correct, it was nearly confirmed to me." He shifts, occasionally, between speaking to himself and speaking to Sans. He stops, stills himself for a moment, to get back on track. "Be sure to watch closely. And listen closely, humans are so very quiet. When they speak, it is so very important. And stay back. "

  
S: Sans isn't particularly strong. He knows his defenses are low, attack even weaker.  
"You don't have to worry about me getting caught in it. Not my style." More so, he doesn't want to die.  
There's a rustle in some grass nearby and Sans goes very, very still.  
"Gaster." He slips backwards, nearly silent on his feet.  
The human steps out. Maybe. Is that what humans look like? It's so very small .

  
G: " _Oh-_ " Gaster looms. It is so dark, away from the bright fire of the core, and the blackness of his coat swallows up his details. He is a skull and sharp, bony hands. This tactic is one that works incredibly well. First impressions are vital.  
"Didn't you get far before I got called in? That's rather impressive, you should be proud of yourself." The smile he flashes, like all skeletons, is entirely teeth. "Too bad this is the end of the road."

  
S: Sans stays back. From here, he's rather difficult to see. Hopefully.  
What is it they're wearing? They have dust on their hands, dust on their clothes. He feels a little sick, maybe, thinking about it. _Got a message from Papyrus earlier, I know he's home safe._  
A tutu, he thinks. Hard to tell from this far.  
They maybe seem to tremble. But they don't hesitate when they rush at Gaster ready to attack.

  
G: Gaster takes his hits, he has the health to spare. Ah, this one is a little firecracker. "Do you think I am going to be as simple a fight as the others?" His hands move, fast, blur into a forest of fingers and knucklebones. They rain down in waves. "Or, perhaps. Did you think it was going to be simple?"

  
S: They're dodging as quick as they can, but Sans sees the light of their Soul waver at each hit. There's something.... practiced about their dodging, though. They pull something out of their skirt. A weapon? No.... a cinnamon bun . He watches them shove it down in three bites before dashing back at Gaster, feet flying for sharp kicks.

  
G: " Yes, that's the one, is it?" Gaster waves a hand, and symbols burn themselves into the earth, erupting upwards. Hm.. Easier to dodge, it seems. The pattern is too predictable, perhaps. He will change that later. "How many times has it been? Three, four? Perhaps twelve? All that pesky time travel."

  
S: Sans bides his time to ask for an explanation later. Around the spike of panic he feels, anyways. His mentor is eccentric, but he wouldn't get himself killed.  
Well.  
Just in case, he's ready to intervene.  
The human damn near pirouettes past a bright shot of magic. They seem like they already know what Gaster is going to do. They're biding their time. Conserving energy.  
Honestly, it's terrifying.

  
G: Boring conversationalist. The last human had been, as well. "The strong and silent type is too overplayed. If you are going to make me do this over and over, you could at least make it more entertaining. Jazz it up a bit." His hands rise so he can press his fingertips against his smile, stifling it.

  
S: He sees their jaw tighten, their teeth grit. They are so small, but there's so much danger in that package.  
"You talk too much." Their voice actually startles Sans almost enough to make him back up further. He wasn't expecting them to talk. "Tired of hearing it."  
They land an attack that sounds a crack, and Sans recites spell patterns in his head. If something happens to Gaster- if he has to fight -

  
G: "Oh!" Gaster seems confused for a moment before checking himself. One hand disappears into the black of his coat and comes back with a heavily cracked vial. Something vaguely luminescent drips down his fingers. "I have been looking for this for an age, how inappropriate." The next volley of hands and signs sweeps over the field as Gaster attempts to pour what little he can from the busted vial into one he keeps strapped on his ankle.

  
S: "Take it seriously." The human's voice is harsh. Cracks a little. "If you're gonna keep doing this to me, take it seriously."  
_Keep on_. Hm.  
Still, if Gaster is calm, Sans will be. Gaster is stronger than anyone- than Asgore, even- so. It's alright. And the human has been hit- they're tripping over sigils- they're hardly leading. Don't seem to have any more food stashed away, either.

  
G: Gaster stashes the newly-filled vial back in his coat and tosses the other into a crop of weeds. They glow bright orange for a moment before wilting down to nothing. "Seriously? Is that what you would like me to do, human, take this seriously?" The next string of hands is more scattered, distracted. Gaster seems unworried.

  
S: "Or just hurry up and die." They sound ragged and tired. They dodge the next wave of hands with ease, and they don't pick up any more wounds, but they're still slower, not as agile. Sans puts his hands back in his pockets, sure he won't have to intervene for now.

  
G: "Oh? Are those my options?" It seems as if the fight between them pauses, full-stop, as Gaster stifles a laugh. Dark, and the air around him seems to grow even darker. The sigils he calls up are lazy and scattered.

  
S: They weave through them with the effortlessness of practice and land a solid kick that Sans winces at. But they're shivering, breath white in the dark, and looking around frantically. "Just die, just do yourself a favor and die."

  
G: "Well, it that's the case..." The slow waves of hands fade out before coming anywhere near the human. "If that's the case.."

  
S: Sans honestly has no idea what Gaster is doing. Looking to get himself killed?  
_Gotta trust him. He's smarter than you_.  
The human takes a few wobbly steps forward. They look around to see if there's any magic waiting in the wings to hurt them. "If you let me past, we'll be alright. Just let me past. I just wanna go home."

  
G: Gaster presses his fingers to his smile again, the small little clacks like porcelain. "I think you're right, human. This would go so much faster if I got serious. " There's a rumble, and the darkness grows before compounding on itself and changing . A truly monstrous thing emerges, bone-white and clean, all teeth and sharp points. "This is where your journey ends, human. Again. And again. And again. " The monstrous thing opens its mouth and floods every corner with light.

" **D O N ' T C O M E B A C K** . "


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster analyzes some data in the lab, and a member of his team reveals a side project.

S: Humans don't turn into dust like monsters do; Sans finds that out. Luckily, it's quick and relatively clean. There's next to nothing left of them when Gaster finishes.   
Whether or not he realizes it, he lets out a breath when he doesn't see any more movement. He thought they were hard to kill, but it looks like they're pretty dead to him. Which just leaves cleanup.  
Sans really, really hates cleaning. He wouldn't want to deal with picking up human pieces. Good thing.  
He tosses the dusty skirt off the side where the waterfall can take it where it pleases. Shoves the shoes off somewhere- grass? Good enough. A good enough clean up effort. Papyrus should be proud, he cleaned one whole thing.  
Their Soul is still there. Small and fragile, but there. He squats to look at it.   
"Thought these were supposed to be more impressive."

G: Gaster is cooing to himself, his hands clasped together at his chest.  
" _Aha,_ it has been so long since I've been a showman! I did not think I missed it so much as I do." The dramatics of the fight seem to stick with him a moment longer before he collects himself and remembers what it is he's supposed to be doing. Gaster crouches down by the little soul as well, still towering over Sans.  
"This one had quite a bit of dust on it, didn't it? Poor bastards."

S: Where would it have come from? It'd have had to pass through Snowdin to get to Waterfall... Sans checks his phone again. There's no mass panic posts on UnderNet, so hopefully Snowdin isn't up in flames. He has a feeling a few piles of dust are scattered in the wilderness, though. Some hapless teenagers in the woods, probably....  
"No wonder it stood half a chance at you." He laughs a little, to himself. "Gotta admit you had me nervous."

  
G: Gaster collects up the little heart, such a deep blue, and seals it in a special container. He studies it, completely absorbed, and doesn't react to Sans until a few minutes later. "Ah? Sans, half a chance?" Gaster scoffs, though he's still smiling. "No chance. Not a single percentage. And now, hopefully, the human realizes it, too."  
  
S: "Hopefully? " Sans takes a decided step back from where he was standing, close to the soul in its little jar. "It can come back from that?"  
  
G: Oh, that's right, he meant to include a lesson in this. "Sans, what do you think the strongest element of a human soul is?"  
  
S: "Iunno. Their bodies are mostly water." He scratches at his jaw. "Monsters are made of compassion, love and magic. I'm guessing none of those."  
  
G: "Well, both of those things are technically true.." Simple, yet straightforward. And something to add to his own personal notes for reference. "Humans can try. And try again. And again. And again, ad nauseam." He tucks the container with the soul under one arm and gestures away from this place. "Come, we will take the long way back to the lab so I might explain. If we make it.. I think it would be safe to say it stuck this time."  
  
S: So they walk, and Sans listens. Usually he tries not to distract Gaster with too many questions - his mentor's a little scatterbrained, a bit all over the place, and distracting him takes him off on a wild tangent. But Sans- who usually feigns being distracted - can't help himself. "So there's the power to completely reset timelines until things go the way they want? They have to give up entirely..... "  
  
G: " We must make them give up entirely." Gaster corrects. He has switched to signs to protect his research, his life's work. Not that the riverperson is a scientist (or at least nearly as good a scientist as he is), but that cat they sometimes work with could be another issue entirely.. The boat rocks gently on the river in any case. "Humans do not simply give up, we must make them stop or else they never will. Hence the act, you see."  
  
S: "Showmanship." Sans is slower at signing than Gaster, but he takes his time with most things. He's giving things the weight of consideration, anyhow, thinking about the possibilities as he speaks. "You drew it out. If you kept killing them in the first moment they'd just come back again and again. Long and arduous before becoming entirely impossible."  
  
G: Gaster laughs giddily. "It builds frustration. Apparently enough so that we've made it this far in our return to the lab. Not that we would remember having to go back and do all that over again, of course, but that is beside the point."  
  
S: "So there's a chance we fought them five, ten, twenty times, isn't there?" Sans slumps back against the side of the boat. The river person is humming gently. "What a lot of work."  
  
G: "Oh, most definitely. For them. " Gaster hums along for a moment, follows the tune in a sort of duet before coming back around to his point. "It serves as a sort of double-edged sword. The human can return so they can attempt to achieve their desired outcome as many times as they like. But this builds frustration and, eventually, hopelessness. We come into an encounter as if it is our first every time."  
  
S: "We don't know what we've done a hundred times." Sans considers it. "But we can read between the lines, right? You knew they'd done it before, and I could tell they memorized your attack pattern."  
  
G: Gaster signs excitedly for a moment, babbling visually when he can't do it through voice. "Precisely! Very good for you to notice that, Sans, good eye." The river bends and the underground changes, the light of the core reaching even so far as here. The boatperson stops and accepts Gaster's tip with a nod. "Should you have the power for it, which I do, a powerful trick up your sleeve seals the deal."  
  
S: "You gotta teach me one or two of those." Sans sticks to sign even after they depart the boat, fallen into the rhythm of it now. "I'm getting the hang of shortcuts." Nevermind that he mainly uses them to get to Grillby's from his room, or that he mostly learned the easiest way to do it. He stretches, finally switching to speak, yawning before he does. "This is what, number 5 for you? You're an old pro."  
  
G: "Four, actually, but the fifth soul. And what an impressive one, at that." Gaster admires it again, spinning the container around. It appears nearly two-dimensional and yet always faces him, visually confusing. Such marvelous little things. "We will keep it for a little while, pull out a few readings, before turning it over to Asgore. Maybe get back to making progress, if we have the initiative."  
  
S: "You always have the initiative." Sans mostly has naps. But hey. "The possibilities are there. If there's a way to harness it- we could go back. And back, and back, maybe, fix it all."  
  
G: Smart boy, very smart. If only he occasionally tried harder, but not everyone can handle the effects of Gaster's research as well as he can himself. "There are incredible implications when we consider the war itself, as well."  
  
S: "You think we could really do that?" Sans finds an old candy wrapper in his pocket and shreds it while he talks. "Go all the way back. With enough determination- with enough souls... Asgore's kind of a short-sighted guy, you know? We could settle with breaking the barrier, or. Or we could make it so that we never got locked in here to begin with."  
  
G: "I would not strike out the possibility!" Gaster's smile is toothy and wide, excited at the prospect. "We will not know until we try. And of course we would have to find a way to go back, ourselves, there wouldn't be much point in simply dialing the timeline back to repeat history all over again. That may be an issue.." He distracts himself with the thought, going quiet as they return to the lab.  
  
S: Sans plays on his phone as they trudge through the swimming heat of Hotland. (Well, mostly he opens up a new note and starts furiously typing down ideas. But there's time to send a few bad jokes to Papyrus in there.)  
 _[A neutron walked into a bar and asked, "How much for a drink?" The bartender replied, "For you, no charge."]_  
He sheds his hoodie and props his feet up on the table, all casual. Like he's not half giddy over the idea. He and Papyrus could grow up on the surface. Right there, where the sun's at. He could be teaching Papyrus to drive right now. Not bad, not bad.   
"Would we forget everything, though? If we changed it. Like, forget this timeline ever happened."  
  
G: "I should hope not, I have done too much work to simply forget all of it." Now that is terrifying. "Call in the team and get them up to speed. I'm going down into the lab to do some preparatory work, take the first round of readings off of this. Oh, I still need to tell the king the human is neutralized. Perhaps I can ask him for the other souls so that I might do some comparative work.." He murmurs to himself all the way to the elevator.  
  
S: Sans waves vaguely at his retreating back before he pulls out his phone to text the rest of the team.  
" _free pizza in the lab. first one in gets to pick the toppings_."  
Well, that's probably not going to get a few of them up.  
" _also we've got a new human soul. so one pizza topping is already picked._ "  
  
G: " _Anchovies and bruss_ e -aww." Bikeaby sounds out of breath, probably rushed based on how hard he threw open the door.   
"That isn't fair, Jawbone always gets here first." He scuffs his shoes on the ground until the little wheels retract.  
  
S: "The trick is to sleep on the couch." Jawbone picked tuna and broccoli. Sans has to admit he's getting a taste for it.   
"Or you could do one better and sleep on your notes like me." He yawns. Sans could use one of those right now...  
"Yeah, except Ding likes you best so you're about the only one who can do that."  
"He does not." Sans picks tuna off his pizza and lobs it at Bikeaby.  
  
G: Bikeaby jumps back from it, hissing, "I'm not cleaning that. Where's the lil' guy?" He grabs a slice of pizza and more paper towels than he'll ever need to hold it.  
  
S: "Didn't answer their phone. Apparently they're not interested in the discovery of new information about human souls."  
"Or they lost their phone again." Jawbone rolls his eyes.   
"Or that. Someone could go get them. Not me. I'm busy." Sans eats pizza to punctuate. "Anyways, the point is-"  
"The point is you're a slacker, how'd you even get this internship?"  
"The point is, we made a discovery today and it's a pretty big deal."  
  
G: "Ah, you know the Doc only likes Sans because he's another skeleton. And it doesn't even exclude him from experiments, so." Bikeaby shoves the entire slice of pizza into his mouth, and it just seems to immediately disappear. "Doesn't mean much in the long run."  
  
S: "Rude. He also likes me because I take great notes." Anyways, if someone had told Sans his internship would involve being experimented on....  
Well. It's paid. Better than most.   
"Anyways, I learned a lot of really exciting shit."  
Jawbone wolfs down another piece. "Right, I'm gonna go get Kenny. They'll be super mad if we discuss important shit without them."

G: Bikeaby snorts and throws his greasy hands over where Sans' ears would probably be if he had them. "Don't swear in front of the kid, Jawbone, Gaster'll have your head. And that's all you have, so.." Or maybe not. None of them have seen the rest of Jawbone's body, if he even has one.

S: "I said 'shit' like two minutes ago."   
"Yeah, but we have to preserve your innocence."  
"I'm a college senior."  
"Innocence. Anyways, I'll be back." Jawbone sort of.... burrows. Who knows where he goes when he does that. He retreats to get Kenny.  
  
G: They kind of just watch the floor tiles slide back how they're supposed to go with their little mechanical whirs. Way better than Jawbone having to burst through every time like before.  
"So, how did you wind up here so fast? You're usually the last to come through the door."  
  
S: "Oh, I actually, uh." Sans shrugs loosely, leans back in his chair.   
"I actually went with the Doc on his field work. I got to see the human. I got to see him fight the human." He maybe sounds smug. Mostly what he feels is excited. Kind of giddy.  
  
G: "You know that's how we lost the last intern, right?"

S: "A human?" Sans' smile fades a little. "You're messing with me, right?"  
  
G: Bikeaby grins in that strange, not-quite-there way he has, and pops the wheels out on his shoes again.   
"You're so _easy_ , Sans, jeeze. Nah, Gaster got rid of all the interns we had before."  
  
S: Sans tries to play off like he's not relieved, but he maybe is, a little.   
"You're a real piece of work, Bikeaby." He laughs, a little bit. "Honestly I'm surprised he doesn't just fire you, me, all of us." But he only has so many hands to work with.  
  
G: "Nah, we're royally mandated. He's gotta have someone here, or else the king gets onto him." He props back on his heels and rolls around the table with the pizza on it, taking little bits of tuna every time he gets close enough. "You notice the Doc gets sidetracked a lot, right? Seems kinda scatterbrained?"  
  
S: "Thinking about 15 things at once, yeah." Sans scoots his chair back just a little bit. Maybe enough to trip him. Maybe. "I mean, he's a genius, comes with the territory, right?"  
  
G: Bikeaby doesn't pay attention and winds up toppling on the leg of Sans' chair, landing pretty hard on his front. It takes the breath out of him, but he doesn't move to get up immediately. There's tuna on the floor, too..   
"Sure, sure, comes with the territory. Not like we're here to keep him distracted or anything."  
  
S: Sans snickers under his breath, but Bikeaby seems to be rolling with it just fine. "Why?" Sans rolls back into his first position so that he can take a drink of his soda. "So you deliberately hold him back?"  
  
G: "You ever seen Gaster at his full obsessiveness ?" Bikeaby's tongue darts out and licks up one of the floor tunas.  
"Course you haven't, don't answer that, that's the point I'm trying to prove." That wasn't so bad, actually. He decides the other pieces are better in his stomach than in the trash, too. "When the Doc gets focused, he gets... bad. Doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, just works and works and works himself down to." Wait, that's a given, isn't it? "So the king hired us to make sure he doesn't wind up losing his mind down in his lab."  
  
S: "You want to roll over and I'll toss tuna in your mouth, you garbage can?" Sans mostly doesn't want to think about what Bikeaby is saying. It's easy to imagine, isn't it? Gaster in the dim light of his lab. Shadows gathering, darker and deeper, till all that's left of him is his hollow eyes and his hands.  
Huh.   
Sans probably needs to watch less tv. His imagination's getting away from him.  
He doesn't have much more time to think about it because the floor starts whirring, signaling Jawbone's return about half a second before Kenny bursts in..  
  
G: Bikeaby ambles up off the floor and goes back to making loops around the lobby. "Whaddya know, that gang's all here. Sans got to see the human and Gaster fight." Jawbone was the last one to do that, and that was a loooong time ago. And a couple humans, too, if his stories are actually to be believed.  
  
S: "What? Are you kidding?" Jawbone looks furious. Sort of. His face is a little hard to read. "You coulda died, kid."  
"Yeah, well, I didn't. It was fine. Doc had me covered, you know how strong he is."  
"What if the human had gone after you? With intent to kill? For someone made of bone you're awfully squishy."  
"And for someone with such a big head you're brainless, Jawbone, I was fine, I am fine. We got them."  
  
G: "What'd Gaster say? Was he cool? He was definitely cool, right?" Kenny has to stand on the tips of their toes to get to the pizza, and it takes both hands to even hold a slice.  
"Geeze, Kenny, you sure that isn't gonna make you even more thirsty?"  
"Shut up, Bikeaby, you're jealous too."  
"Whoa, man, lay off the salt there, that isn't helping."  
  
S: "I'll be completely honest with you both." Sans shrugs. "It was awesome. I've never even seen magic like that."   
"Did he do the thing where he- ppssshhh- and then the waves- and the darkness- and then- BZZZYUUUOOOW--?"  
"Okay, well that description was a train wreck, but yes."  
  
G: Kenny successfully manages to climb into a chair and sets their chin on the table, their fingers just barely curling around the edge. "So that means you go to see the human, too, right?"  
"Aw shit, I didn't even think of that.." Bikeaby stops and switches to his toes to avoid rolling around unintentionally.  
"So what do they look like? Was it big and ugly?"  
  
S: Well, he can either tell the truth, or lie out of his teeth.   
"Enormous. And terrifying. It looked like it could snap me in two with one hand. It was caked in dust and ash and it said how much it wanted to kill the Doc."   
Jawbone frowns. "Is that so?"  
"Yeah, what, was yours different? "  
"No."  
  
G: "No wonder the Doctor is so strong, if he has to go up against creatures like that.." Kenny sounds awed, and perhaps flushes while staring dreamily at the opposite wall. Just a little. For a little monster. "And now he's even stronger, too."  
"Gaster and Kenny kissin' by the core-"  
" Bikeaby "  
"All cuddled up and tryin' to sco-" The quiet ding of the elevator shuts him up fast, and he trips over himself to stomp the wheels back into his heels.  
  
S: Sans sits up straighter without thinking about it, and Jawbone quits scarfing down pizza. They look like a serious, studious team when Gaster arrives. Well, mostly. Kenny is still sort of dreamy.. Sans doesn't even make fun of them for it.  
  
G: "The last word was 'score', yes?" Gaster doesn't even bother looking up from his readings as he steps from the elevator and spreads them out on the table. Bikeaby slumps a little, he hates getting caught. Even so, he nods to answer.   
"Mm. You know, it's rude to gossip about someone who's listening."  
"Sorry, Doctor." Bikeaby sounds sincere enough, but he leans around Gaster's shoulder to mouth 'how?' at Sans and Jawbone.  
  
S: Gaster's facing towards him, so Sans can't do more than shrug, but really- Bikeaby should know better.  
Still. It's almost kind of funny.  
Sans busies himself poking through the readings, idly tearing the perforated edge off the old dot matrix printer paper. (Gaster needs an upgrade, doesn't he? This thing is probably older than the Core...) There's some pretty impressive-looking graphs.  
"This level of persistence is kind of incredible," Jawbone notes.  
Is he talking about the human or Kenny? Sans snickers either way.  
  
G: Gaster simply hums before falling absolutely silent again. It can take him a while, sometimes, to actually let the rest of the team in on whatever he's thinking. His fingers trace over the jagged shape of a graph before he pulls another rolled sheet of paper from inside his black coat. He never changed back into the lab-appropriate white, too distracted.   
"Humans are such strange creatures. Too unique from one another, it is so difficult to pull data we can properly compare."  
"Perhaps if you brought out the rest, so we might help?" Kenny has given up on trying to see by sitting at the table, so now they just walk on it while furiously avoiding eye contact with Gaster. They quietly help spread out the new graph and hold it down with one foot so it doesn't roll up again.  
"Five different readings, but the same results across the board. All of these extended timelines."  
  
S: Jawbone shifts around to a better vantage point, accompanied by the whirr of shifting tiles. Sans rolls his chair a little closer to look over the shapes.  
There's variation, yeah, but all of them show the same thing. Jawbone speaks first, usually does.  
"Every one of them has at least two or three timeline splits. Most of them more."  
"If you look-" Sans points a finger - "you can see that the readings start to descend, little by little, with every repeat."  
"Fatigue."  
  
G: "Naturally," Gaster confirms with a short nod. He strokes down a page of colored graphs, nearly caressing the numbers and figures. Kenny goes a little pinker.  
"So... If the timelines split, that means there are other ones happening right now, right?" Bikeaby sneaks one last piece of tuna. Brain food.  
S: "So." Jawbone rests his chin on the table, thinking. "Is is possible those timelines hold vastly different outcomes?"  
"Like." Sans slowly spins in his chair. "A timeline where we lost?"  
  
G: Gaster snorts. From anyone else it would seem sarcastic, but he somehow makes it feel like a more genuine laugh. "Impossible. And foolish on top of that, why would a human go back on a timeline if they made it to the surface." He sounds absolutely sure. "Logically, the other timelines would be just like ours, where the human was neutralized."  
Kenny seems to fidget for a moment, unsure if they should speak up. "Or they are just.. travelling back and forth along the same line."  
  
S: "Now that's an interesting theory." Jawbone shifts a little, turning to look at Kenny. "Just jumping back to the same point over and over, not knowing it'll always end the same?"  
"So either there are multiple timelines with the potential to converge at the same cut-off point, or there's one, and it's been rewound and re-done so many times that it's overwritten each past instance." Sans slurps his soda. This is the kind of stuff that gets him out of bed in the morning. "The data would show traces, then, left over from past rewrites, but there would only be one True Timeline."  
  
G: "This one, naturally. If that were true, but we have no way to check that."  
"Well, actually..." Gaster looks up from his charts for the first time to stare across the table at Kenny. Their fidgeting gets faster. "I may have been working on something.. extracurricular."  
"Ooooo, seems the student has surpassed the master."  
"No! Nope! Not at all!" Kenny tries to slap a hand over Bikeaby's mouth in the middle of his sentence, but they wind up accidentally shoving their whole fist in it... It works well enough.  
  
S: "Looking to impress, Kenny?" Jawbone's mouth is too big to cover. He also always seems to have a shit-eating grin, but that's just his natural state. It may actually be a shit-eating grin now, though. "Well, impress us."  
"I'm... genuinely intrigued, actually." Sans props one elbow on the table. "What've you found, Kenny?"  
  
G: Gaster seems hyperfocused, nearly overbearing. Hungry, even. It doesn't much help Kenny's state of nervous distress, but perhaps talking about it will calm them down a little. They extract their fist from Bikeaby's mouth and wipe the spit off on their labcoat.   
"Well. It was more of a theoretical thing until this morning, when I finally got some results. Thanks to you, Doctor! At least in part." Their hands continue stroking along their coat, like Kenny's palms are sweaty. "It's a machine. But it's a machine that tracks time."  
"So you made a clock."  
" No, clocks tell time. My machine tracks time. In an entirely theoretical sense... Up until this morning, it was a clock."  
  
S: "Which wouldn't have shown us anything until there was an anomaly." Sans' eyes light up in excitement. " _But there was one this morning._ "   
"Well!!! Don't just stand there sweating, show us!" Jawbone gives the table a hefty nudge. "Show us your clock."  
"They just said it wasn't a clock-"  
"Show us the clock!"  
  
G: "Post-haste." Gaster stands again, and his dark coat settles around him in little ripples. Kenny seems dumbstruck for a second. He's so cool.  
"We'll have to go to my place. Oh god, it's a mess.. We'll have to go to my place, but if we do, you have to promise to ignore the mess."  
  
S: "How messy is it?"  
"Jawbone."  
"Like, are we talking 'left a few things out', or 'looks like Sans lives here?'"  
"You haven't even seen my house."  
"I've seen your workspace."  
"Point taken." Sans rises from his chair. "Well, come on. Time's a wastin."  
  
G: "Theoretically," Bikeaby snickers, picking Kenny up and putting them on his shoulders. He pops the wheels out on his shoes and skates in little circles before wheeling out the door. It's the first time Kenny has ever had to duck to avoid a doorjamb.

The clock, as Bikeaby keeps calling it, is more a massive gyroscope in the back yard of Kenny's duplex.  
"I told the landlord it would make property values skyrocket.." It certainly looks cool enough. Its two rings swing slowly around a central orb, and it hums gently. Gaster leans low over the base, watching the readings as they scroll past on the console. Despite his height, he seems unworried about getting clocked in the head by one of the rings. "Right, so. My original plan building this was to keep track of the flows of magic in the underground. Humans aren't made of it, like monsters, so I thought that maybe just the act of a human being here would be enough to subtly affect the background magics here."  
Bikeaby slowly follows one of the loops as it circles around, one finger reaching out to slowly trace over the numbers carved into the metal hoop.  
"But then you, Doctor Gaster, made your breakthrough about humans being able to jump through time. So I kind of.. shoved the two ideas together and hoped for the best?"  
  
S: "How long did it take you to make this? It seems very.... _time_ consuming ."  
"Kenny probably had the _time_ of their life building it." Jawbone snickers under his breath.  
"I can't believe I was outpunned."  
"Get used to it, bonehead."   
"Again!!" Sans sighs in mock defeat before he crouches down to look at the readings, peeking around Gaster. "Holy shit, though." He pulls out his phone to compare the time on it to the thing's internal clock. "We're eighteen hours behind." How many tries is that? Even barring the idea that every one of those was against Gaster....  
  
G: Kenny scurries over to the big machine and pops open one of the bottom panels. There's an entire stack of matrix paper with recordings constantly reading from the machine. It ticks off two separate graphs on the same scale. "That's not the only thing. I only built this with one ring."  
"Results do not just spontaneously generate," Gaster murmurs down to the little monster.  
"Right.. But this machine is very finely tuned to both magic _and_ time."  
Bikeaby stops, rolling onto his toes to cease moving. "It's tracking the two different times. It's, uh. Overlaid onto itself."  
"Right! This is no longer one machine, this is the machine that matches the time we feel and the machine that matches the time the human felt laid over one another, like.. like you draw something on two panes of glass and then put them together!"  
  
S: Sans tries to think of himself as a laid back, relaxed kind of person. But right now he feels so hyped he thinks he could. What? Run a marathon. Climb a mountain. Clean his entire room. Holy shit.   
"Which means - it's the two experiences of time in this same timeline, this same-" Sans starts typing furiously on his phone.   
"If every offshoot produced an entirely separate experience of time, the clock wouldn't duplicate." Jawbone is making excited laps around the machine. The earth is tilled and muddy where he has moved through. "Which means they've been going back and back and back on this one."  
"Ho-ly fuck."  
  
G: Gaster stands straight again, his fingers pressing to his mouth. They don't cover his grin completely, though, and the corners of it peek out. "Oh, Kenny, this is marvelous."  
They spend a good few minutes stumbling over their words and kicking at the ground before muttering a small "it's based on your research" under their breath.  
"We must move this to the lab at once. And all the data you have collected from it so far, every scrap, I want that on my desk in two hours, _aha_ ."  
  
S: Two hours . With generous use of shortcuts this is still a several hour job. Sans rubs the heel of his hand over his eye socket and sighs heavily. Papyrus is gonna have to warm himself up something for dinner again.  
"Alright, well. We'd better make double time on this."  
From the groan, no one appreciates his pun.  
  
G: It takes them much longer than two hours to get everything set up, but Kenny at least makes sure to get their notes to Gaster when he asked for them. The lab takes some serious reconfiguring to find the perfect spot for the new machine, and every one of them, the Doctor included, throw their hands in to hook the gyroscope up to a proper power system and adjust its hookups to feed into the main labs computers. By the time everything has finally settled in, exhaustion hangs heavy in the lab.  
"Fantastic work, really marvelous." Even Gaster sounds a bit out of breath. It could be excitement.. "I can handle the rest of this, myself. You are all dismissed for the night. For the morning, as well, feel free to sleep in. After this, I have a feeling we shall be making nothing but progress."  
  
S: "Oh, good." Sans has been nearly exhausted for what seems like forever now. Did he used to need to sleep this much? It seems like he used to be able to stay up all night. Jawbone is dozing with his forehead pressed against the wall, unaware of his own snoring. Sans is even pretty sure Kenny may be conked out somewhere, their excitement can only carry them so far.  
Still. He yawns and waves a hand at Gaster.  
"I'm probably grabbing my brother something to eat before I go home. You want anything, Doc? Should... prolly eat." He yawns again.  
  
G: "I have coffee," Gaster responds, already bent down over Kenny's notes and recordings. His fingers trace the graphs with little scratches against paper, his lab silent in his own mind. Too full of thoughts coming together into cohesiveness.  
  
S: "Coffee isn't food, doc." Sans makes a note to bring him a Grillby's burger in the morning. Right now he thinks he might fall out if he doesn't get some rest. "Don't work too hard, hm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters introduced this chapter are the Gaster Followers who you can find in the game. Bikeaby is the sprite resembling the Donut Guy outside the spider bake sale; Kenny is the sprite resembling the Ficus Licker in the Mettaton Resort, and Jawbone is the one-of-a-kind sprite with the large head. All three of them were developed by tripleCrocodilian and I, and if you want to win my heart, you can talk to me about them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans goes home to see his brother and spends some time with a member of the lab team.

Sans takes a quick shortcut to Grillby's, where Grillby looks- less than pleased to see him after closing. (Ah, is it that late already?) and then home, two burgers in hand. He has no idea if Papyrus is asleep, but he flings himself onto the couch to eat, honestly too tired to make it upstairs.  
  
G: It's quiet for a while, which... is kind of strange..  
Not that it's a constant party at the skeleton household, but there is at least some manner of sound. The faucet dripping or the fridge running or the house creaking from the cold. Instead it's winter-silent. Still.  
  
S: "Papyrus?" Normally Sans at least hears him rustling around in his room, typing, something. It's.... kind of freaking him out.  
He hauls his tired bones off the couch and tiptoes up the stairs, his footsteps dead silent. "Papyrus? Are you up, bro?" Come to think of it, did Papyrus respond to his texts earlier?  
"Papyrus. Hey, quit messing with me, you uh- you got me." Sans pushes on his door.  
  
G: It's dark except for the light from the desktop computer, the screen simple shades of white and black. There's something on the screen, tiny type, the cursor just barely blinking at the end of a sentence..  
S: "Papyrus?" There's no way he should be out this late, he's normally tucked in by now. Sans leans in close to read the tiny text on the screen. His ribs feel hollow and achy (like they weren't already?), dread cold in his skull.  
*** ***  
*** ***  
'NYEH HEH HEH'  
  
G: " _I've got you!_ " There's a clatter and a heavy thunk, but Papyrus manages to leap from his closet in a flurry of clean clothes. Oh, he'll have to put all those things away later.. but this is worth it!! He raises his hands up above his head and brings them back down with a flourish. "You're blue now!"  
  
S: "Papyr-" He can't even finish his name before Sans hits the ground, hard , and he's - he's so _mad_ -  
he laughs, hand against his browbone. "Papyrus, you scared me out of my skin."  
  
G: Papyrus seems as surprised as Sans, honestly, his jaw hanging open like he's been tricked. "It worked..?" But he soon catches himself and sets his fists on his hipbones, puffing up his ribcage in overconfident pride. "I mean.. Nyeheh! Behold, brother! Tremble in.. impressedness! At being the first to witness the great Papyrus' famous Blue Attack!"  
  
S: Sans gives up and flops onto his back on the floor. (Maybe he'll just sleep here....)  
He closes his eyes. Despite himself, he's grinning. But isn't he always?  
Papyrus has been practicing. Last time Sans spied on him, he couldn't even lift the basketball he was trying out magic on.  
"That's some pretty impressive magic, bro."  
  
G: "Of course! Are you trembling yet?" Papyrus braces his hands on his knees to lean over Sans and look down at him. He really won't be the little brother much longer if he keeps growing like he is.. "And if it gets uncomfortable, you should tell the great Papyrus, as he is a fair and just warrior who doesn't want to actually hurt innocent citizens of the kingdom.."  
  
S: "Your floor is cold, oh fair and just warrior." Sans doesn't make any attempt to move anyways. He flings his arms out beside him and kicks his shoes off, and they go tumbling somewhere across Papyrus's floor. Whatever, he has laundry strewn everywhere, he can't complain.  
"But you got me quakin' in my boots."  
  
G: Watching Sans' shoes bounce off in different directions seems to remind Papyrus of the mess he made with his surprise attack, and he takes a few seconds of hard concentration to break the magic he has Sans under before scurrying around to put things back where they belong. "Hey, don't throw your things around my room.."  
  
S: "You threw me around your room, it's only fair, bro." Sans feels the weight off his chest, magic broken, but he still lays there. He lifts one arm to gesture vaguely at his shoes before plopping it back down. "Just throw em in my room, I'll deal with it tomorrow."  
  
G: "It's already tomorrow!" And has been for a while, actually.. Papyrus didn't really hear much from Sans after those first texts way earlier ( and that awful joke ), so he assumed his brother was busy. Papyrus didn't really think he'd be three-thirty-in-the-morning busy.  
"Are you going to sleep on my floor again?"  
  
S: "I'm too tired to move. Lift me with magic." Sans holds out his arms like he's expecting to be picked up. (Honestly, as tall as Papyrus has gotten, it probably wouldn't be that hard....) Plus, Sans' bed is still..... kind of a wreck. He's not sleeping enough in it lately. It's all naps, all the time, wherever he can snag em. Papyrus's floor isn't all that horrible to sleep on, anyways. Papyrus snores, but eh.  
  
G: Papyrus readies himself like he's going to give it a try, but he seems to think better of it.  
"The great Papyrus' Blue Attack, while the most famous and impressive of all magic, is. Not actually that versatile."  
  
S: Damn. Sans laughs anyway.  
"You can drop it like it's hot but not pick it back up? Tsk tsk, bro." He rolls over onto his face. "Guess I'm sleeping here. Throw some laundry on me, I'll make a nest."  
  
G: "Saaaans! Come on, you can't sleep on the floor." Papyrus takes both of his brother's arms and tries to drag him towards the door. Wowie, he's heavy.. No wonder the Blue Attack worked so well.  
  
S: "Just drag me. That's it, just- slide me across the floor." He's making hilarious rattling noises against the hardwood floor planks..... "D'jyou eat today? I brought you a cheeseburger."  
  
G: Papyrus gets halfway to his door before the light from his computer ticks off into sleep mode and casts them into pitch black. Oh, jeeze.. He just remembered the whole house is probably dark like this.. And it'll take forever to drag Sans down the hall to his own room. "Hey, Sans."  
  
S: "Yeah?" Sans blinks one eye open, and it takes him a minute to realize it's not still closed. It's especially dark tonight, isn't it?  
  
G: "On second thought. The great Papyrus has decided that, as an apology for scaring you, he will allow you to stay in here tonight. As an apology."  
  
S: "The Great Papyrus is truly a merciful and kind warrior." Sans finally sort of half-gets-up, scoots onto Papyrus's rug, and wads his hoodie up under his head. Plus, well.  
Well, maybe he got kind of scared.  
"Hey, Pap?"  
  
G: Papyrus tucks down the covers of his bed by feel and climbs in. His feet nearly reach the end of the mattress, but he decided a long time ago that he was never getting rid of his racecar bed. "Yes, Sans?"  
  
S: "Don't scare me like that again, kay?" Papyrus probably doesn't even know a human came through. Better if he doesn't know, honestly- no need to worry him. Sans considers rolling himself up in the rug, but he's not all that cold. His hoodie is comfy enough, anyways, and he's so tired he's already starting to drift off....  
  
G: "Okay, Sans, I promise." Papyrus nods off soon after, too. It's way past his bedtime, and he's glad he didn't get in trouble for it.  
  
S: Sans sleeps well into afternoon, barely even budges through Papyrus getting up and going to school, and it isn't until his phone is persistently buzzing under his head (ah, damn, left it in his hoodie pocket... ) that he stirs.  
  
G: "Wakey wakey, lazybones!" Bikeaby's voice is irritating and tinny over the line, the reception is terrible below the ground floor of the lab. "We're delving into known unknowns today, and for some reason the Doctor wants you here to see it."  
  
S: "Jealous much, Bikeaby?" Sans pulls his hoodie over his head to try and block out the light. He's so incredibly tired.... But, well. Up and at em. He drags himself up and makes an attempt to look like he's not wearing yesterday's clothes. Well. He changes shirts. It counts.  
He takes a shortcut, which means his cell makes an awful screeching noise into Bikeaby's ear, probably, but eh.  
"Known unknowns, huh?"  
  
G: Bikeaby has to hold the phone a good foot away from his ear, and even then it hurts. When he brings it back, there's strange repetitive feedback for a few seconds. "That sounds a lot better than we don't know what the hell we're doing, you know."  
  
S: Sans gets in the lab elevator and his signal starts to drop out. "We know where to start, at least. Time travel shit."  
  
G: "What valuable inpu-" But the signal cuts out before Bikeaby can finish being a smartass. He shoves his phone in his coat and gets back to the chip he was soldering together for the gyroscope.  
  
S: Sans arrives at the lab a few seconds later, anyways, to see everyone well at work. The gyroscope data is tacked up, pins at important places, and Sans stands back and consults it for a while before he throws his hoodie off to grab a lab coat. "How goes it, team?"  
  
G: Gaster peeks up from where he's working, his long and delicate fingers wrapped carefully around the new human soul. There are deep circles under his eyes, a feat for a monster that doesn't have skin, but he smiles nonetheless. "Judging by how late it is in the day, I'll take it you are well-rested. Good, we have quite a bit of work to do." Which... doesn't answer the question at all.  
  
S: Sheesh, has he been up nonstop since yesterday? Sans remembers Bikeaby talking about him at full obsessiveness. He stops at the coffee machine and puts together a cup for himself (like.... ten sugars, half a cup of creamer) and a cup for Gaster (no sugar, just a little creamer swirling in the dark coffee, no stirring.) He brings both over to the workbench and takes a seat, paging through a clipboard of data. "Where do I start?"  
  
G: "What an interesting question.." Gaster seems distracted by it entirely, his thumbs rubbing absentmindedly over and over the little blue soul in his hands. There's really no telling how many days in a row he's been awake.. The number can get pretty impressive at times. The smell of coffee seems to partially shake him out of it. "I have put in a request with the king to bring in the other four human souls. Kenneth's machine is synced to.. Actually, I am just going to let them explain it, this is a waste of my time."  
Kenny looks vaguely offended for a moment, but is used to how Gaster gets when he is trying to concentrate and feels as if he's being distracted for no reason. "Since my machine naturally synced up to the introduction of the human, we're going to try and see if we can sync it to the other souls, as well."  
  
S: Sans immediately starts leafing through readings and downing coffee.  
"That'll give a more powerful idea of the scope of the ability, too. This one persisted an additional eighteen hours outside of our timeline. There's no telling how many collective hours four other human souls have poured into their own timelines." Sans sits back. "It only takes seven to break the Barrier in its entirety. Five could damn well be enough to mess with the entire scope of our time."  
  
G: "Maybe make it so we were never stuck down here in the first place.." Kenny considers it, dreamy for a second, before going back to their work. "But we have to take those first few steps. The machine automatically adjusted to the presence of the newest human, but we'll probably have to manually tune it to the others. Right now we need to find a link between the human's soul and the machine so we can duplicate it with the other four."  
  
S: "Which is going to be fiddly, precise work."  
Jawbone rolls through trailing paper behind him. "Now you're getting it." He drops (slightly toothmarked) reports in front of Sans. "I've been combing through the machine's stats chronologically to see what changed when it synced, everyone's looking at different aspects. Get to digging."  
Sans rests his browbone on the table for a brief moment. "Alright. Aaaaalright." There goes his day. He's going to need more coffee. "Kenny's buying us lunch."  
  
G: Kenny looks even more offended than they did when Gaster gave up on explaining what they're working on. "What?? What did I do?"  
"Gave us all this work to do that may eventually lead to a better and more brighter future." Bikeaby comes into the main room for the first time, a set of magnifying goggles pushed up to his forehead. He carries the soul container under one arm. "God, way to go , Kenny."  
  
S: "How dare you motivate us to betterment." Jawbone leans his forehead against the counter to read.  
"You guys are playing, I'm serious. I could still be asleep on the floor."  
"You slept on the floor last night?"  
"Yeah, I uh." Sans laughs. "I didn't make it any farther."  
  
G: "God, no wonder you're crooked."  
"Hey, Bikeaby, don't be rude."  
Bikeaby sets the container down in the middle of a big chart and blows a raspberry. "Sans is the one HP wonder, he can handle more brutal hits than me calling him out."  
  
S: "I can't handle any brutal hits, that's the point." Sans shrugs and folds an errant sheet of data into a plane as he talks. "Least I know any magic. What's yours again, Bikeaby? That same little flower petal pattern we all learned in fifth grade?"  
Usually they can bicker like this all day. Gaster doesn't really notice, when he's absorbed in work- and considering his current fervent interest, he's not hearing a word they're saying. Sans kind of worries, but his background chatter is as much to keep everyone else sane as it is for himself.  
Jawbone rolls his eye. "Low blow from the guy who had to sit back and watch Doc fight a human all by his lonesome."  
  
G: Kenny carefully scoots the containment cell away from their readings and towards Gaster. The doctor takes it without even looking up, sliding the soul back into place inside. "I wouldn't want to go up against a human with one HP.. Doctor Gaster is strong and can take care of himself, right?" They all kind of look to Gaster, but he's nearly nasal bone to tabletop over his charts. "I know I'd get dusted, no doubt."  
  
S: "Yeah, well, that's why I intend to avoid it at all costs." Sans leans back in his chair. "Educational to learn. Still doesn't mean I'm going out of my way to do it. I'd pretty much have to be the last monster alive before I fought a human."  
"Yeah, well. You're no Gaster, either."  
"What'sat supposed to mean, Jawbone?"  
"Just saying. I've seen him fight."  
"Well. You have a point." There's a moment where they all glance over at him. He seems very thin and frail, just at this moment, but Sans remembers yesterday vividly.  
  
G: "I certainly hope you are all staring at me in the hopes that I reveal some multi-faceted truth about life, the universe, and everything, and not just because you are all slacking off." It isn't often that Gaster is a true smartass, but his team of followers has to rub off on him at least a little.  
  
S: Sans ducks his head down a little, but he's still grinning. Alright, so maybe he kind of admires Gaster. He's not at Kenny's level yet (but really, can anyone match their thirst?) but the Doc is kind of.... motivational. Works just as hard as any of them. Harder, probably. And yeah, it shows.  
"Alright, you caught us." Sans hides the paper airplane he'd been making. "We're all kind of wondering what secrets to the fabric of the universe you have at your disposal."  
"Technically, we're supposed to be helping with those secrets."  
  
G: "Finally, a statement made with sense."  
Bikeaby claps one of Gaster's shoulders and startles the doctor out of his headspace. "Come on, Doc, lighten up! We're making progress, we've got a new toy to play with, Kenny's buying lunch-"  
" Hey- "  
"We can afford to rellaaax and enjoy this one, right?"  
  
S: _Not like we're here to keep him distracted or anything._  
Sans doesn't quite like how it tastes in his mouth.  
_Sure, let's hinder our chances to make it so that we were never trapped down here._  
"Nah, I'll get serious." He doesn't speak very loudly, but it's decided. "I oughta apply myself." He unfolds the airplane, smooths out the creases and starts poking through the data.  
"Who are you and what've you done with Sans?"  
Sans doesn't even rise to it, not really. (Alright, so he flicks Jawbone on the forehead.) He's busy poking through data.  
  
G: Bikeaby huffs, but he's grinning. "Yeah, yeah. Speaking of which." He gently taps the glass casing around the heart. "The chip is finished. It technically does about the same thing as Kenny's machine, but I made it specifically to measure the differences between our natural time and the human's natural time. If we can use this as our control, we should be able to get a pretty accurate bead on the others."  
"It's terrible that you are so useful or else I would have no regrets about sending you to Asgore in a pine box."  
"Why... why would I be in a box?"  
Gaster presses his thumb and forefinger into his eyesockets and squeezes, "My god, you don't know what a casket is.."  
  
S: "Isn't that the human funeral thing?" Jawbone rests his chin on the tabletop.  
Okay, Sans is really trying to concentrate, but... "What?"  
"Well, you know, humans don't turn to dust when they die."  
Sans remembers. "Yeah, I observed."  
"Well, in their funerals, they bury the bodies."  
"What, really?"  
"Yeah. Isn't that horrific? The body just sits there, without a Soul in it, just- doing whatever bodies do without Souls in them."  
  
G: " _Ro- t._ " The t is very sharp, coming from tight between Gaster's teeth. "Now can we return to work, or are you all determined to stay here in this black pit of a place forever?"  
Bikeaby's grin finally falls, and he does actually look like he feels guilty about it. "My bad, Doc, I'm gettin' back to it."  
  
S: It falls quieter, after that, just the murmuring of comparing data points and asking one another to pass this or that sheet. It's tedious work, but Sans gets absorbed into it, and with the lab being so deep underground, his sense of time is really nullified. He has no idea how much time has passed by the time he realizes he's starving.  
  
G: Kenny is already home by the time they get to the end of their data. After all they were the first monster to get to the lab ("little suckup," Bikeaby calls them with the utmost admiration), and so it's only fair. It means they got to skip out on having to get everyone food, though.  
"Hey, Doc." Gaster has been in his own little world for hours by now and barely reacts to the questioning hand on his shoulder. "Doc, we've been here for ages. Time to take a break, right?"  
"Mm, yes. You are all dismissed." He says it without even looking up, something he's incredibly good at, though it seems more like an automated response than anything sincere.  
Bikeaby gives Sans a look since Gaster isn't paying any sort of attention.  
  
S: Sans looks back, sure he has to match the circles under Gaster's eyes by now. He has no idea how the old man hasn't passed out by now. Honestly, Sans wonders if he even slept last night.  
"I'll just grab a bite and then be back." In all honesty, he was starting to fall asleep sitting up. A bite, and coffee. He ducks out with Jawbone and Bikeaby.  
  
G: They're a good ways down the river, Bikeaby's feet thrown over the side of the boat, before he seems awake enough to talk any more. "So are you actually going back to the lab, or?"  
  
S: "Yeah." Sans shouldn't've taken the boat, the rocking is making him sleepy. "I don't really wanna leave him alone. Doc could probably use some rest. Barring that, someone to fetch coffee."  
  
G: "You should take him something back to eat. Gaster isn't a Moldsmal, as much as he tries to be." Nothing to filterfeed down in the lab, anyway. "We're gonna have a hard time, I can already tell."  
  
S: "I meant to bring him something last night and then my little brother scared me witless." Sans yawns again. Maybe he'll just nap on the way over....  
"You really think so? I know we're working on some complex theoretical shit, and that it sort of concerns the entire fabric of time, but.. I don't know. I just kind of figure Gaster can do anything."  
  
G: Bikeaby waves a hand at Sans. "No, I mean with Gaster. He's already like that, it's gonna be hell keeping him together."  
  
S: "Oh. Yeah." Sans shifts to pull his hoodie closer around him. "Yeah. I'm having a hard enough time keeping myself fed and rested." He falls silent for a second. "I get his fervor, though. I keep thinking maybe I'm slacking off too much. Maybe we should all be that serious."  
  
G: "What, you think we're not serious?"  
  
S: "If you guys weren't serious Kenny wouldn't have built a - whatever that is- in their backyard. I don't know." Sans tugs his hood up. "I just kinda want to be as passionate as Doc is."  
  
G: Bikeaby grimaces, but he doesn't say anything for a few minutes. They're nearly back to Snowdin before he speaks again.  
"The king is sentimental, you know. Or.. maybe you don't know, whatever. He just doesn't want anyone to get hurt in order for us to be free." When he kicks his heels against the side of the boat, the wheels pop out and back in over and over. "Aside from humans, of course."  
  
S: Sans lets it sink in for a second. Yeah, yeah he can see it.  
"You know, when I first took this internship, I thought it was going to be unpaid. I mean, I was going to take it anyways- what other chance am I going to have to work with theoretical physics under here? But the king, he writes this letter to Gaster, this long thing, and Gaster just starts handing me a paycheck." Sans yawns. "They probably go way back. And King Dreemur is known for caring about monsters. So I get it. I do."  
  
G: "Yeah, they used to be great friends, I think. Before, well.." Bikeaby shrugs a little and stretches lithely before standing. He reaches deep down his own throat to get a surprisingly dry tip for the riverperson. "I don't really think Gaster has the ability to have friends anymore."  
  
S: "We're kind of friends." It sounds laughable before Sans even finishes saying it. "Well. No. Not even close. But I guess he- you know. Wants to teach me stuff."  
  
G: They crunch through the snow, Bikeaby utterly crushed that he can't skate his way through it. He's only been to Snowdin a couple times, actually, most of the science team sticks to the Capitol or Hotland. "Well, he's gotta like you in some capacity. You're the first intern he's had that he hasn't sent home in tears."  
  
S: "You for real?" Well, Gaster does tend to do that thing where he.... doesn't... particularly care. Luckily, Sans' caring quota is usually pretty maxed out at home, so he's fine with being a piece of furniture for a while around the lab. "I would give my left arm to keep working at the lab, man. Gaster could call me a sack of farts with dirt for brains every day, but the stuff we're doing...."  
  
G: "Okay, I want you to take a second and actually try to imagine what you just said because I think it's the greatest thing I have ever heard in my life."  
  
S: Sans stops. Closes his eyes. Really pictures it. He snorts and descends into hopeless, exhausted giggles.  
"Oh my god. Just imagine. 'Sans, you sack of farts. You sack of absolute farts'." He snorts loudly.  
  
G: Bikeaby snickers and snorts and holds the door to Grillby's open for Sans. "Nah, you're a good kid. A complete smartass, but a good kid. There's a reason he's kept you around so long."  
  
S: Sans doesn't even have to duck to walk under Bikeaby's arm. "I'd hope." Sans waves at Grillby, who is..... impassive, at best. (Guy's hard to read.) He takes his seat first and gestures for Bikeaby on the next barstool.  
  
G: "Speaking of which," Bikeaby starts. He takes a look at the menu for a total of three seconds before pointing excitedly to the cheese fries. "Why the hell did you get into quantum physics?"  
  
S: When Bikeaby sits there's a loud  
_ppppffffllltttttttttttrrttttt_  
and Sans snickers to himself before dropping his forehead to the bar. Oh god, he's so tired that even whoopee cushions aren't as funny as usual.  
He should probably answer, too. He orders two burgers- one here, one to go- and rests his head on his arms, pillowed on the bar.  
"I guess I just never heard monsters talk about it. We all know about magic- grow up completely surrounded by magic, everyone learns spellcards all through school- but we never talk about the fabric of time, or like. The laws and natures that bind the universe." Sans yawns.  
  
G: Bikeaby is used to it at this point. Really the whoopee cushion just makes the barstool.. well, cushier, so he leaves it under his ass. And then it'll be weird and hot whenever Sans wants it again.  
"I guess that makes sense. I mean, we don't really know a lot about whatever is outside of this place. Everything we can get is mostly based on whatever washes down here from up there. But... I guess it's a good idea to be prepared for what the surface will be like."  
  
S: "There's so much outside of the underground that we just-don't know about." Sans hums and buries his face in his arms. His speech comes out muffled, but (hopefully) audible. "Humans with magic presumably created the Barrier, but do most humans have magic? None of them have come down here with spells. They can mess with the fabric of time, though. Is that magic? Is it science? Is it some messy grey area between? You see their films and their shows and their literature like, drowning in science fiction and time travel and magic but- who knows? Who actually knows?" Sans only pops up when he smells his burger being brought to the bar.  
  
G: Bikeaby manages to cajole a shot out of the old fire sprite and knocks it back with a shiver. Ffffffffffffffffffffff, that'll warm you up fast.  
"It's weird to think we used to live up there." There are very few monsters still around who ever saw the surface. The king, the queen (wherever she's gone), maybe a few old-timers lucky enough to have maintained a body this long.. "We used to live with the humans, even."  
  
S: Sans puts too much ketchup on his burger and it drips on his fingers when he eats, but he's beyond caring.  
"Can you imagine how much we've lost from then? Like- how advanced we might be, as monsters, if we weren't confined down here? We could- shit, there could be monsters in _space_ ."  
  
G: "Sans, you don't even know what space _is_ ." Aside from the few movies that have survived the dump. Bikeaby still remembers the first sci-fi reel they managed to salvage, Forbidden Planet.. The theatres were packed for ages, and his mom must have taken him to see it twelve times. "Though... that's really friggin' cool to think about."  
  
S: "I know that it's big, and there are aliens in it, maybe, and that humans are really really hyped about it. Isn't that enough???" Sans sits up all the way, actually awake enough to gesture wildly with his hands. "We could go to space, Bikeaby. There are probably humans out there, right now, in _space_ ."  
  
G: Bikeaby downs another shot, hissing and laying his ears back. It tickles his belly and his head.  
"If this, my soul, should be unprisoned from its earthly bond, time could not count its markless flight beyond." Monsters in space, with all those little sparkling lights and cold rocks. Sounds like Waterfall, honestly.  
  
S: "Is that poetry? I didn't know you liked poetry." Sans doesn't know a damn thing about poetry. He finishes off his burger and heavily considers eating the second one, but the kitchen is closed and he wouldn't have a thing for Gaster. "You know, you're alright, Bikeaby."  
  
G: "That was human poet Snoop 'Doggy' Dogg, if I'm not mistaken." Bikeaby digs into his fries before he gets any more drunk, staring down thoughtlessly into his plate.  
  
S: "Yeah, well, monster poets kind of suck. We kind of ran out of subject matter like after three years underground." Sans steals a handful of fries from Bikeaby. "Anyways. I gotta get this food back to the Doc. You about to go home and sleep?"  
  
G: Bikeaby scoffs and creates a wall around his fries with his arms. "Sleep? Pffft, I'm here to party all night!"  
"I close my restaurant at three."  
"I'm here to party until three!"  
  
S: "You get to be the one who tells Gaster you're hung over in the morning." Sans stretches and stands. "G'night, Grillby. G'night, Bikeaby." He grabs his to-go burger on the way out.  
  
G: "Sans." Grillby sounds like a gently crackling fire, save for when he's angry. But he is very rarely, if ever, angry. "You're forgetting something."  
  
S: "Ah." Sans pauses and checks his pockets. "Bikeaby, you're good to cover my bill, right?"  
  
G: "Whaat? You bring me here and then make me pay for your food?"  
  
S: "Hey, you got to experience the wonder that is Grillby's." Sans shrugs. "Put it on my tab, Grillby, I'll get it next time."  
  
G: Grillby simply sighs and returns to serving drinks. If Sans keeps doing that, he'll actually have to open up a tab..

The lab is... serene isn't precisely the word for it, but it's as still quiet as it can be this close to the Core.  
  
S: "Knock knock." Sans tries to announce his presence in the lab when he can, not that Gaster ever really looks up or anything. But it's a habit by now. "Brought you something to eat, Doc."  
  
G: "Mnm." Gaster pulls away from his charts slowly, though not necessarily reluctantly. It's obvious he's tired, and his pupils aren't much more than tiny pinpricks in the black of his eye sockets. "Sans. I did not expect anyone to come back."  
  
S: "I figured you wouldn't want to leave the lab, and the lab fridge is currently cleaned out." Sans sets the to-go box in front of Gaster and takes a seat; he's not really intending to work, but he might as well at least sit at the table. "We've made good progress today, though."  
  
G: Gaster simply stares at the box for a long moment, but he eventually comes around. He shuffles charts away into neat stacks, careful to keep correlating ones together, When he opens the box, he at first believes himself to be much too tired to eat... The smell hits him soon after, however, and his stomach growls and twists into empty knots.  
"The day isn't over yet, there is still-" The doctor stops himself when he spots the clock on the wall. "Ah. I suppose the day is over."  
  
S: "Pretty sure you've gone a full 24 hours." He certainly was already working when Sans left last night.... "You still need brain food to keep all that science happening. Not.... sure Grillby's counts, but it sure tastes good."  
  
G: "What day is it?" Wait, there are a great number of graphs tracking time right in front of him.. Gaster finds one that seems right and slumps a little lower over the table. "Fifty-two." Now that he thinks about it, he never took time to heal from that battle with the human, either... The food will help that, at least. "Thank you, Sans, you did not have to come back simply for my sake."  
  
S: Sans shrugs loosely, hands folded on the table. There's still a little ketchup on his hand... would it be weird to slurp it off in front of Dr. Gaster? He wipes it off on his shorts what he hopes is surreptitiously.  
"I don't mind. Papyrus will call if he needs anything, and. Y'know, glad I could bring something."  
  
G: Gaster pulls the top bun off the burger, rearranges the pickles, and puts it back together before taking a bite. It's.... very, very good actually. His stomach clenches again, this time out of appreciation.  
"Papyrus.." It takes him a little while to sort through the things that are further forward in his mind, to think back to the initial interview with Sans. "Your brother!"  
  
S: "Yeah, that's him." Sans is actually- kind of surprised and pleased that Gaster remembers. He doesn't talk much about Papyrus at the lab- keeping home and work separate, he guesses. Or maybe he just doesn't want to open up that fountain of worry while he's at work. "Yeah, he's still in school right now, so hopefully he's in bed by now. So I got- you know, nothing but time, until I crash." Which he might do on the lab couch.  
  
G: "Hopefully?" Wait... Ah, that's right, Sans and his brother are the only ones in their family. "How long have you been raising him alone?" Sweet lord, this burger is good... Gaster wishes he had three of them, but he made himself sick that way last time he went so long without eating.  
  
S: "Since- forever, really." Sans shrugs a little bit. "It's been so long I don't really think much about it. Since he was a lil' baby bones." Sans folds his arms on the tabletop and rests his jawbone on them, yawning again. "I shoulda grabbed you fries, sorry."  
  
G: Gaster shakes his head and bites a sesame seed off his thumb. Where did Sans get this? Maybe they deliver..  
"I do not think I know much about you," he admits between bites, "Bit of a shame, really. We are the only two skeletons I know. Three. But I only know two of us."  
  
S: "Yeah." Sans is quiet for a second. "It's weird. I mean- yeah- there are other monsters that are unique." He's never met anyone else like Jawbone, for example. "But it was- well. It was exciting finding out it wasn't just Pap and me."  
  
G: "Did you know I was a skeleton before coming in for the interview?" Gaster is not.. unaware of how private he is. It is a rare occasion he leaves the lab, and he quite honestly cannot reliably name anyone outside of the group he works with nearly every day. When was the last time he took a vacation?? God...  
  
S: "Actually, no." Sans laughs quietly. "Pretty much- no one really knows anything about you. I don't know what I thought. Maybe that you'd be a boss monster like Asgore?" He settles down into his folded arms some more. "All the surprises have been good, though."  
  
G: Gaster laughs quietly to himself and takes a few minutes to finish off the rest of his burger. He doesn't feel quite so fuzzy with food in his belly, though he now notices precisely how bone tired he actually is. Sleep is an eventuality at this point. "Despite what you have heard from my mandated assistants?"  
  
S: "Despite, because of, what have you." Sans yawns. "You think about a lot of things at once. And you're focused. But those aren't bad things." He grins playfully. "Forgetting to sleep or eat for so long are, though." Left to his own devices, Sans would do nothing but sleep and eat.  
  
G: "Mmm, don't you get on my case, now. I might send you home crying." Gaster stands for the first time in... hours. He can't quite make it to his full height for a bit, his spine and shoulders seemingly stuck. With a deep, deep breath Gaster straightens out. Everything moves back into place with a sound like firecrackers.  
  
S: Oof. Sans winces. "Before you send me home crying, make sure you can actually move ." Yeah, alright, maybe he's super casual with Gaster sometimes. Maybe a little too forward. But he has a feeling not many people just- talk, much, to him. "I was gonna sleep on the couch, honestly."  
  
G: "You aren't going home to your brother?" Gaster turns at his ribs to work out the last few kinks. The settle out with a much less drastic crackle.  
  
S: "At this point, I think it's better for his sleep schedule if I don't crash in and wake him up. He needs his rest." And Sans needs his. "Plus I can get to work earlier tomorrow."  
  
G: Gaster hums to himself and throws a few things away, shreds of scrap paper and the carton Sans brought the burger in. He knows he needs a shower. Sleep sounds more enticing, more than anything, but it can wait an extra twenty minutes. "You have been here every day for.. nearly two weeks. You should take the weekend off."  
  
S: "What if you guys discover something really cool while I'm away? I'd never forgive myself." He's mostly joking. Well. Partially. A little.  
  
G: "There are worse things to never forgive yourself for..." Gaster wonders, sometimes, what people must think of him. Where they must believe he comes from, how he got here, what mysterious dark past he must have had long ago.  
Sometimes he likes contributing to these things. Just for fun.  
He wanders off for a shower smiling privately to himself.  
  
S: Why's he gotta be an enigma like that all the time? Sans would protest it, but Gaster is already gone.  
He's too tired to ponder mysterious mentors tonight. Let him do it in the morning.  
He knows he said he wouldn't wake Papyrus, but he texts him just in case.  
"hey. not making it home tonight. sleeping at the lab. you better be in bed and hope you ate dinner. be good bro."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans spends some time with Gaster, and Gaster meets Papyrus.

G: Gaster, weighed down by sheer exhaustion, takes longer than he thought to drag himself to bed. He sways on his feet in the elevator up to the main lab, lulled by a full stomach and clean bones. Nearly misses Sans on the couch in the lobby. It takes his last scraps of energy to phase up to his loft and back down, but he wouldn't have the boy uncomfortable all night. Gaster carefully slides a pillow beneath Sans' head and drapes a blanket over his weary bones before heading up to bed himself.  
  
S: Sans usually times his wakeup to Papyrus getting up for school so he can at least see him off, but the whole morning manages to pass without the telltale signs of Papyrus tromping around the house. He eventually surfaces drowsy and confused. Normally he's not so comfy on the lab couch.... He spies the pillow and realizes he's bundled in a blanket.  
That's. That's kind of nice.  
Is anyone up yet? He doesn't hear the sounds of anyone rustling around the lab. He drags over to the coffeepot and starts making coffee.  
  
G: It takes a while of the coffee brewing to wake Gaster up. The scent wafts up the stairs and fills the loft until it eventually pulls him out of sleep. The clock by his bed reads nearly noon.. and when he checks his phone, there isn't a single message asking when to come in. His team members seem to have a feel for when Gaster will sleep, so it doesn't surprise him at this point. Always willing to slack off.. and allow him to when it seems he 'needs' it.  
It doesn't matter. He cannot turn back the hours he wasted. Yet.  
Admittedly, he feels much better having slept.  
Gaster dresses in a loose cloak and makes his way down to the lobby. "I did not think I would see the day that Sans awoke before me."  
  
S: "Ho-ly shi-" Language, Sans. "What I mean is, boy, I'm surprised too." Sans yawns again and leans against the countertop while the coffeepot brews. He flicks through his phone idly, but there's nothing on Undernet worth looking at, and Papyrus is in school, so Sans won't get him in trouble. "I never thought I'd see the day Doctor W.D. Gaster woke up past noon."  
  
G: Gaster doesn't bother walking the rest of the way to the coffee pot. He simply phases to it and catches the end of Sans' sentence again. "Careful, Sans. I cannot have you telling tales."  
  
S: Should he be abusing that trick?  
Hell, Sans has no right to talk, does he?  
He draws a bony finger across his chest in an X.  
"Oath of silence. No word of this." He fetches two cups from the dish rack and starts making coffee for both of them. "The team will never know you're a mere mortal monster like the rest of us."  
  
G: " _Mere mortal_." Gaster has an opinion about that statement forming somewhere at the back of his mind, but then Sans sets a cup of coffee in front of him. The steam is so inviting.. Well. Perhaps they can all slack off, just for one day before work crushes down on them. Progress is going to be hard without the other human souls, and he still hasn't heard back from Asgore about that.  
"What do the rest of you do when you are not trying to save us all?"  
  
S: Sans laughs and shuffles back over to the couch. He wads up the blanket and shoves it aside, plopping down.  
"Last I checked, Bikeaby gets drunk and that's all I know. Jawbone- I think he has some kind of weird trash collection? Who even knows what Kenny does, they obviously have enough time to build that in their backyard." He stirs his coffee lazily. "I mostly hang out with my brother. And, uh." What else does Sans do? "I sleep and eat."  
  
G: Hm. He should probably ask the others, but then that would compromise his mysterious persona, wouldn't it?  
There was a time when Gaster was close to the people he is trying to save. Closer, at least, than he is now. He is aware that even in the Capital, there are legends and rumors circulating more than facts. Farther out where monsters cannot see his lab or hear the rumbles of the Core, his own creation.. There's no telling.  
"What do you see as your end goal of this, Sans?"  
  
S: "You'll laugh." Sans is suddenly very interested in his coffee cup.  
  
G: "I won't." He sounds very sure, if not reassuring.  
  
S: "I wanna teach Papyrus to drive." That's... probably going to need a little context.  
"If we get out from underground- out there - I think it'd be cool to teach Papyrus to drive. I could really care less about anything else- if I've got good burgers and a comfy bed I'm fine- but if the underground opens up, there's a lot more world for my brother to go make a mess in."  
  
G: "And that is all?" Gaster isn't laughing, just as he said he wouldn't, but there is a touch of unbelieving to his tone. He should be granted that, if only as a personal favor.  
  
S: "That's really it. Anything else cool that I learn- any saving monsterkind and stuff- that's just a cool bonus." Gaster is totally laughing, silently, probably. Oh, well.  
  
G: Gaster is quiet for a while. He intermittently sips from his coffee, the heat mulling around in his skull, and grinds his molars together as a contrast to the silence between them. "How long have you interned here, Sans?"  
  
S: "How long has it been now?" It feels like forever. "Six months, I think."  
  
G: Six months? Gaster has a difficult time believing it but thinking back on it, it seems correct. No other intern has ever lasted this long.. Hell, he can think of a few fellow scientists who didn't last this long working with him. It's a feat, considering how frustrating the past month in particular had been for him. No new data, chasing his tail in circles. Gaster can't particularly remember a specific event, but he is sure he hasn't made it easy for anyone nearby. If Sans can handle this long so well..  
"Be my protege."  
  
S: Sans' head snaps up so quick he spills coffee on his lap, and he has to spend a moment swearing under his breath and dabbing at it with his sleeve. When he finally recovers from that, he has to double and triple look at Gaster to be sure he's not getting pranked.  
"I dunno if I'm qualified- I don't have experience - uhhh-"  
  
G: "Who cares? You will gain experience. I can teach you to be qualified." Split-second decisions usually work out pretty well for Gaster.. He cannot foresee this one going bad. "If you want to say no, there is no need to create excuses for it."  
  
S: "No, I- I want to say yes. " Sans is just.... having a hard time convincing himself he deserves it. "Are you sure?"  
  
G: Gaster finishes off his cup of coffee. He swipes his finger around the rim and brings it to his mouth before answering.  
"You have a good head on your shoulders. One that can be used for much more than.. driving and burgers." He tries to imagine Sans sticking solely to an inane life like that and cringes. "As royal scientist, it is my prerogative to take a pupil or not. I would rather provide you with the tools and knowledge to move forward than know I had the opportunity to inspire growth and wasted it."  
  
S: Sans is quiet for a while, sipping on his coffee, thinking about it. It's so easy to stay here, to work. To get caught up in the fervor, to want to discover things. Sans doesn't really know what else he would do with his life. He got a quantum physics degree on a whim. He got his internship here because he didn't know where else to go.  
"Thank you, sir. I - appreciate the opportunity. Won't waste it."  
  
G: "Then that is a yes?"  
  
S: "Yessir, Dr. Gaster." Sans isn't actually used to speaking to him so formally. But it seems important.  
  
G: " Excellent, I will send a message back to the king whenever they deliver the souls to make it official." He presses his fingertips to his grin, probably looking a good bit more mischievous than he usually does. He's never taken a protege before, honestly had never forseen it in his future. "You'll have a better health plan, proper pay. Vacation days. The same benefits the rest of the research team have."  
  
S: "Oh. Whoah." He's feeling....sort of overwhelmed. Vacation days? Oh man, yes. And real paychecks? "The team is gonna be pissed....."  
  
G: When he rises and stretches, his spine pops in two different places. He's really done a number on himself the past few days..  
"The team are a group of royally-appointed nannies who happen to also know what they are doing in my lab. I was given the choice between picking the least annoying of the lot or moving my entire operation back to the Capitol." Wait, he was going somewhere with this... Ah, right. "If they are pissed, they can consider it repayment for the headache they cause me on nearly a daily basis."  
  
S: "Aw, c'mon, they're... alright. Kenny built that thing." Sans gestures to the gyroscope, whirring away in the other room. Mostly, he's worried about strife. He doesn't want to be the cause of it. Or upset anyone.  
But.  
Well.  
Well, he's getting a shot at being Gaster's successor. It doesn't matter if a few others are upset, this is something he'll never get another shot at.  
  
G: "Yes. Yes, I know." Gaster sighs lowly. "It is still a sore spot, perhaps." But that isn't something to linger over.  
Giving up on the day was an eventuality, really, and he finds himself much less frustrated with it than he would be. Gaster knows that if he were to attempt calling his team in, they would come forward with any number of excuses on why they just can't make it, sorry. But to be quite fair (a good bit more so than he is usually), Gaster hadn't realized how much he's pushed himself the last several days until Sans brought it up.  
Not that he needs caretakers to look out for him. Which is why he will take care of himself. By taking a day off. Of his own volition.. Already he feels queasy about it, ugh.  
  
S: Sans putters around drinking coffee and flipping channels on the tiny old lab TV. (Monster TV kind of sucks, it's all human reruns and news. They really need some kind of original content....) Gaster kind of looks like he doesn't know what to do with himself... Sans can do small talk, he can totally do that.  
"You never said what you do when you're not saving us all."  
  
G: "Ah.." Usually, he wonders when he can get back to work. Gaster gets the feeling Sans would not be satisfied with that answer, so he attempts it again. "Maintenance work on the Core. Asgore has several teams dedicated to upkeep for it, but I prefer to keep a close eye on it myself.." That is probably just as bad, but it's true.  
  
S: "That's not a break, dude, that's just different work." Sans frowns. "Dangerous work, even. D'you watch TV? Surf the web?"  
  
G: "You sound like Bikeaby." Just an observation. It's that same kind if lazy half-concern that only really shows up when Gaster is looking his worst. He sighs and concedes to it. "I suppose I should get out if here, it has been weeks since I've gone to the Capitol.." Weeks? Maybe a month... Maybe a couple months.  
  
S: "Yeah, that sounds- better." Sans is probably acting like he does around Papyrus again.... He's gotta learn when to switch that brother thing off. "I should probably clear out and let you do that, then...." He can. What? Go to Grillby's, probably. Or sit at home and watch TV.  
  
G: "Have you ever gone?"  
  
S: "To the Capitol? ... No, actually." He's never really gone farther than Hotland. It seems crowded and busy in New Home.  
  
G: Gaster seems to consider for a long while, as if he's processing. Shoving aside the need to work is more accurate.  
"Would you like to?"  
  
S: Is he really being invited just to- hang around Gaster? On a day off? No work or anything?  
Kenny would lose their mind if they knew.  
"Yeah, sure." Sans hauls himself off the couch and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Might as well, right?"  
  
G: "I wouldn't know, I haven't the faintest idea what you get up to when you are not here." Now that isn't entirely true. "It could be far more exciting than.. groceries. I need groceries." His fridge is entirely bare, he remembers Sans mentioning that.  
  
S: "Grocery shopping is exciting." He's only sort of messing with Gaster, just a little. What kind of stuff does the Doc even eat? Does he cook himself? "Alright, so. Groceries, then an exciting Capitol adventure."  
  
G: "Groceries are not exciting." Gaster will have to write up a list if he has any hope of actually getting anything useful today, he's been so scattered recently.. "But they do go by faster with company. In any case, it's entirely up to you."  
  
S: "I'll totally come along. For exciting groceries." He chuckles to himself but decides not to keep poking at Gaster. He just got that protégé spot, he'd better not risk Gaster pulling takesies-backsies if Sans annoys him too much.  
  
G: Gaster hums to himself as he goes back up to his loft to properly dress. It doesn't take him long, he isn't one to linger over fashion choices. Black is always a good bet, someone had told him once. He has to say he's looking sharp when he comes back down. "I think we might also make a stop before that. I cannot foresee it taking long."  
  
S: It's easy to forget how tall Gaster is, how long and lean and thin. Usually he's hunched over a table, draped in excess lab coat, and Sans sort of assumes.  
Well. It's good seeing him standing straight. "Make as many stops as you like. We've got all the time in the world, right?" Badum-tsh.  
  
G: "That was awful." He still laughs. Sans is infectious like that, perhaps he should do some studies.. Gaster lays a hand on Sans' shoulder and leads him from the lab, and the shortcut he takes deposits them in the snow. A bit off, he meant to aim for the city square, but Gaster has never actually come to Snowdin. "Which is your house?"  
  
S: Oh! Sans laughs in surprise. He wasn't expecting that. There's snow clinging to Gaster's coat, and he knocks it off. "This one over here..." He leads the way, tapping on the door as he walks in. "Papyrus? You home?" He waves to call Gaster inside, out of the cold.  
  
G: Gaster has to duck to avoid the doorjamb.. Has it really been so long since he's had to go somewhere he didn't build ?  
"Sans, you're home!" Oh, goodness, he is no good with handling children.. preteens.. teenagers. Anyone who isn't an adult. "Today we learned that there-s.. a.."  
The little skeleton pops out from the kitchen, his look of elation replaced with confusion.  
"You must be Papyrus. I have heard.. a bit about you." Gaster doesn't know how to speak with one so young... Is he... Is he interested in theoretical physics? "My name is Windingaster, I work with-"  
" _Are you our dad_? "  
  
S: "Papyrus, oh my god." Sans takes a quick step between his brother and mentor. "Gaster, Papyrus. Papyrus, Gaster. Papyrus, this is my _boss_ at the _lab_ ." He steps into the kitchen and starts poking around in the fridge for some kind of snack for Papyrus. "We're just stopping by... uh, but tell me about what you learned at school today, bro."  
  
G: Papyrus spends a few extra seconds scrutinizing Gaster before turning to follow Sans into the kitchen.  
Does he... Does he really look that old???  
"Um.. We learned about the differences between energy and magic. Science-y stuff! But I didn't.. pay a lot of attention in class."  
  
S: "Pap." Sans finds some peanut butter and figures a sandwich will do. "You really oughta pay more attention. Especially to that stuff, that's the really cool stuff." He cuts it into triangles, crust off. Shoot, he might as well take inventory of what groceries they need while he's here...He digs around until he finds an old burger receipt and a pen and starts jotting things down. (Peanut butter.... bread... ????, soda probably, those little bagel bite things holy shit, instant noodles.... healthy shit for Papyrus, what the hell kind of food is healthy)  
  
G: " You say it's really cool, but you're a big nerd."  
Gaster remembers the monsters who used to call him a nerd... They are all probably dead now. God, maybe he is old..  
"You're a big nerd, and you stink!"  
"That is true." Gaster finally decides to sit on the couch to avoid standing around awkwardly and folds his hands on his knees. "That is not just a brotherly insult, you are actually a bit disgusting right now."  
  
S: "Oh." Sans gives his own shirt a good sniff. Yeah, no. He really needs to shower. "Would you look at that. I just thought you were being.... humerus."  
Badum-tish.  
"But seriously, I'll actually go shower, I smell rank." He sure did sleep in these clothes for like three days in a row.  
  
G: " _UGH_ "  
Gaster stifles another chuckle behind his hand, but he can't even scold Sans for anything. He gets awfully caught-up, himself.  
  
S: There's probably some clean laundry here somewhere..... Sans pokes around and gives a few things a good sniff test in his room. Eventually he finds enough that's more or less clean to be dressed, and he showers. Being bone tired (ha) makes it harder to keep up with the small stuff like laundry and bathing. But hey. He's at it now.  
He hovers on the stairs for a second, peeking at Papyrus. Hopefully it wasn't too awkward for either of them leaving him alone with Gaster...  
  
G: "I promise you I am not your father."  
"Then are.." Papyrus gasps and brings his hands to his mouth, stars practically dancing in his eyesockets. " _Are you our mom??_ "  
Gaster slumps a little further into himself, his mouth a straight line as he makes a small defeated noise to himself. He notices movement up on the banister and laughs pathetically. "Sans! You're back!" _S a v e m e .  
_  
S: Oh my god. Sans signs back at Gaster quickly around a snicker. S _o you're definitely not our mom, then?_  
"That's- probably enough of whatever that is, Pap." Sans takes his empty plate and dumps it in the sink. He'll wash it later.... And do laundry later. Probably. Eventually.  
"Okay, me and Dr. Gaster are going to go run some errands and stuff. You need anything before I go, bucko?"  
  
G: _You are not funny_ , Gaster signs when Papyrus' back is turned. He stands again and dusts the strange fluffs from his pants. Must have... picked them up from the couch.  
"You're leaving again?" Ah. Gaster may lack a good bit of... well, empathy, but he does recognize that tone.  
  
S: Sans winces. Oh, Pap. "Just a little while..... You, uh. You have any homework tonight?"  
He hasn't really been home a lot, has he? The lab has kept him for probably a solid two weeks, and most days he's home far after Papyrus goes to bed. He's kind of slacking on being a good brother.  
Sans slacks a lot, but that's one thing he tries not to fall behind on.  
  
G: "Yes.. But I can call Nacarat over, they owe me a favor! We'll study together."  
Gaster can't say he feels bad about asking Sans to come with him. After all, if the other skeleton did not want to come, he probably would have said no. But he does make a note not to take until late tonight so that Sans might come home. They are, after all, the only three skeletons in the underground. So it would behoove him to look out for the other two in whatever small ways he can. "Are you often alone at home, Papyrus?"  
He seems to debate what to say for a moment before puffing out his chest. "Why, yes! The great Papyrus is the only one in his class noble and mature enough to command his own household!"  
  
S: "That's right." Sans realized he probably seems negligent.... Gaster must think he's terrible. "Papyrus even got a key to the house. I guess you could call it a..... skeleton key ."  
Papyrus is going to groan. But in all honesty, Sans is pretty proud sometimes. Kid probably takes better care of Sans and himself than Sans takes of him....  
"And hey, bro, don't just watch TV when Nacarat comes over."  
  
G: Papyrus huffs, but he doesn't have anything in particular to say about the pun. "I won't, I'm not a lazybones like you."  
"Your brother works very hard, Papyrus. We all do." Gaster bends down slightly to give him a good look. "Make sure you keep up, hm?"  
  
S: Sans hovers for a second. He should probably.... tell Papyrus he's proud more, or apologize for being away, or.  
"Yeah, bro, you don't want to end up like the tomato that fell behind. He had to play ketchup ."  
Bad jokes. Bad jokes are the same as affection, right?  
He nods at Gaster, ready to go.  
  
G: Gaster covers his laugh with a hand before offering it out to Papyrus. "I am glad I was able to meet you, Papyrus." Even if it wasn't particularly... nice. Mostly awkward, at least at Gaster's end.  
The little skeleton takes it and shakes it accordingly. "Sure, Doctor Windin."  
"It... It's Gaster."  
"Are you embarrassed by your first name?"  
"Let's go."  
  
S: "Alright, well." Sans laughs under his breath. "Bye, bro."  
He makes sure everything is set before he shoves his grocery list, such as it is, in his pocket and holding the door open for Gaster.  
He's still a little damp from the shower, and the cold Snowdin air feels kind of good on his bones. His jacket's warm enough. "Is there anything else you uh, need in Snowdin?"  
  
G: "To be frank, I have never been here before." Not within the town, anyway. Gaster remembers the snow, however, and a battle fought in it long ago. That had been.. oh, two or three souls ago. "Though it seems a.. calm place." He notices people staring as they walk by, just a little before averting their eyes.  
  
S: "Yeah. It's- it's peaceful." Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets, his fingerbones are getting chilly. "The Royal Guard is stationed around here for human lookout, but- it's mostly pretty quiet." No humans until recently.... "And there's Grillby's. My favorite place."  
  
G: Oh, is that where Sans got that burger last night? Gaster may have to frequent this place more often.. Grillby's, he will remember that. "Have you heard anything about the most recent human? They would have had to pass close by here."  
  
S: "I haven't actually asked the Guard yet...." Sans shivers a little. "Doesn't look like any casualties happened here in town. I've barely been home, so I haven't heard of any gossip about humans, but." Sans shudders. "If I hear of anyone who's turned up missing, I'll know the cause."  
  
G: "If I had been called in sooner, it would not be an issue. But we cannot yet turn back time." One day. He can at least speed them towards their destination. Gaster takes Sans by the arm and takes the shortcut to the Capitol.  
The sudden difference between the cold and the heat makes his bones creak and resettle. The bustle of the city is all around them, though, and he doesn't have much time to think on it.  
  
S: Sans has to take a minute to adjust himself, if only because this is the most monsters he's seen in one place in some time. There's a family of Froggit by his feet, and he sidesteps out of the way and bumps into Gaster a little. Whoops. "Bigger than I expected."  
  
G: Gaster carefully steadies Sans. Ah, maybe he should have shifted them to a less-populated place, they seem to have startled quite a few monsters.. But this is the closest to where he needs to go, and the other monsters can get over it. "It has to be. The Capitol has the highest population density of anywhere underground, and it is growing every day."  
  
S: "No wonder more and more people are coming further out." People have been moving as far out as Snowdin, but Sans knows mostly people have been coming out to Hotland and Waterfall before they hit Snowdin. What'll happen eventually when those places get full, too? "Did you used to live here?"  
  
G: "Once, a long time ago. But as my work grew more complex, it simply became unfeasible to draw so much power from the grid." Gaster leads Sans through the bustling streets to the market square. It really has been a long time since he's been out and about. "Now we're hooked directly to the Core, so I needn't worry about causing power outages."  
  
S: "Which means we can work on bigger 'n better stuff." Sans keeps finding new things to look at. The buildings are tall, and monsters keep crowding past in a hurry to get places. "You built the Core, right?"  
  
G: Gaster takes a paper sack from the front end of the street and begins filling it with all manner of things he'll need to actually, well. Survive. "Yes, that was a while ago. Not long after I was first assigned royal scientist, in fact."  
  
S: Sans realizes all the various stalls are selling items, and he tries (mostly in vain) to find things on his list. No Bagel Bites in sight. There are snails (fresh from Blook farms, the tagline declares) and mushrooms ('picked up off the ground tbh', according to the sign) and- is that pottery? Pottery isn't groceries. Sans pauses a moment and looks at Gaster, really looks at him. "This's probably rude, but, uh- How old are you?"  
  
G: " Oh, do not ask that." Gaster sighs and looks off in the distance as if he must figure it out. Honestly, his exact age has never been much concern for him. Until that little Papyrus brought it up, at least.. Is he starting to look old?? "I came into being.. not long after the surface war, if I'm not mistaken. I do not know for sure."  
  
S: Sans actually has to stop, then, and an irate Woshua bumps into him with a few murmured words (to his credit, he has bathed today, thanks).  
He knows varying monsters have varying lifespans. Boss monsters like Asgore and the Queen live incredibly long lifespans unless they have children. Monsters like Whimsun live short lives.  
Is this a skeleton thing, or is it just a Gaster thing?  
"I'm _22_ . You're- how many times my age?"  
  
G: Gaster nearly loses Sans in the crowd, but he manages to find him again. Luckily, most monsters are a good deal shorter than him. "Pardon? Twenty-two, and you nearly have your degree in physics? Sans, that is truly impressive, why didn't I make you my protege sooner?"  
  
S: Good thing skeleton's can't flush. "I mean, Papyrus is right, I'm a nerd. I got really ahead in school." Well, and he slacked off on things that bored him or were too easy. Such is Sans' existence. "The point is, the war is just something I read about in history books." Admittedly, that means even Gaster has never been to the surface.  
  
G: "And I had never seen a human until the king order me to go out and neutralize one. I was not in the war, you know, there are very few monsters still alive who saw that." There is a rather colorful collection of nudibranches for sale, and they catch Gaster's eyesocket. What does something so colorful even taste like? He supposes now is the time to find out.  
  
S: Sans grimaces a little at the weird squirming things. Is this even edible ? Where's frozen pizza when he wants it? "I guess I thought you were- I dunno. I have no idea how long skeletons live, I guess. Me and Pap being the only ones I knew."  
  
G: "Then we are in the same boat, as the saying goes." That dangling, incomplete sentence bothers him like an itch he isn't flexible enough to scratch, but he lets it go. "Before I met you, I truly believed myself to be the only skeleton in the entire kingdom. In the entire world. We are.. very much a mystery, even to me."  
  
S: Sans curls his fingerbones into his palm, tapping little clicking noises inside his pocket.  
"I guess happenstance kinda nailed it, huh? Chances that I wouldn'ta met you are pretty high."  
  
G: "Happenstance, yes." Gaster drops his hand down and this time settles it on the crook of Sans' elbow. "Or whatever subtle magicks push us led us here. As streams coming together before meeting the sea." He shakes off the poetics to pay for the sack of groceries and lead them away from the market. "Didn't you have a list, as well?"  
  
S: "If you could call it that..." Sans shrugs a little bit, but not enough to shake off Gaster's hand. "I was just gonna pick up some frozen pizza, I can do that in Snowdin." There's plenty else to see in the Capitol, he's sure, it can wait. "I dunno that I believe in fate or any of that. It's- kind of hard not to sometimes, though."  
  
G: Gaster laughs gently as they weave their way down a cobblestone alley, the electric lamps lighting the way before and behind them. "Not that we are the only unique monsters, of course. After all, I have never met another like Jawbone."

  
S: "Yeah, me either." Sans realizes how old some of these buildings are. It's interesting seeing how new things are built on top of old, the way the city grows outward from itself, older the closer to the center it gets. Is this how human cities are? After all, they've had the overworld to themselves for so long. They look like that in movies, in TV.  
"There're monsters in Snowdin who I've never met anyone like. Being unique isn't the end of everything."

  
G: "Not at all." Gaster is lost in his own thoughts for a while, and he occasionally gets distracted by some happening or another along their way. "Sans, do you remember how you came to be?"

  
S: It's..... a surprisingly big question. Sans listens to the sounds of his sneakers on the cobblestones, the sharp sounds of Gaster's heels clicking.  
"Nah. Earliest back I can remember is taking care of Papyrus. Like I just started in the middle of the story."  
  
G: "Did you name your brother? Yourself? Or was that simply what you knew yourselves to be?"  
  
S: "That's just his name." Sans doesn't frown, often, but he is now. "I never really thought about it. It's not like I knew him from when he was a little baby bones or anything, either, we were- I don't know. I don't remember being teeny tiny, you get me?"  
  
G: Gaster nods sagely, "Yes, I understand." The story is much the same for him, he simply... was one day. His motivations, his personality, his identity already in place.. A self-sustaining monster already.  
"Perhaps I can look into that, once we reach the surface."  
  
S: Sans looks at the long shadows they cast on the cobblestones. Existential questions aren't normally really his style, but.  
"I think once we're not trying to save everyone and figure out time and space itself, I'd like to figure that out too. Me. Papyrus. Us. What that whole.... dealio is."  
  
G: They pass by a theater, and Gaster has to stop to check the marquee. There are one or two titles he recognizes, reels that have remained popular no matter their age, and quite a few monster films. He was not even aware monsters were making films now..  
"So much will change when we leave this place. Truthfully, I wonder if we'll be able to handle it."  
  
S: Attack of the Killer Snail actually sounds like it could be kind of fun.... Sans makes a note of it.  
"It's a lot, isn't it? We all wanna get out, but- y'know. We've all grown up under here. Nobody really knows what it's like. And we'll be at war."  
  
G: "Which went so well for us last time." That's unfair, the humans built up their attacks in secret, under the guise of friends. When the monsters return... The unkindness of it will be repaid.  
"What a heavy conversation for a day off, hm?"  
  
S: "Yeah, kinda." Sans laughs. "We could probably talk about something lighter." Oh, there's a bike shop over there.... Sans doesn't even know how to ride bikes, but a bunch of em sure do end up in the trash down here. "I never really talk about- anything too deep."  
  
G: They walk for a while in silence, Gaster humming to himself. He seems uninterested in talking anymore.. but the interest suddenly returns as he tugs Sans towards a cafe. "Those of us who think deeply often avoid talking about it, I have found."  
  
S: Oh, hey. He didn't even know they had cafes like this down here.... Smells good.  
"I wouldn't want to creep anyone out, I guess. Can't just stroll into Grillby's like 'what up, Grillz, you ever think about the heat death of the universe and our own inability to shape the outcome of the cosmos?'"  
  
G: "That may be a bit heavy over burgers, yes." There's a tiny wire table on the patio perfect for the two of them. Gaster sits and sets his bag by his feet and quickly glances through the menu. "But perhaps not too heavy for parfaits."  
  
S: He's never even tried a parfait. Yogurt seems kind of.... healthy? Sure, it's healthy, even if it's got strawberry syrup in it. Cool.  
"Then let's wax about our cosmic insignificance."  
  
G: "Why do you believe us to be insignificant? Let's start there." Their server is a rather adorable rabbit monster who tells Gaster that black is his color. It is nice to hear that someone else notices.  
  
S: Sans smiles at the server, but their attention seems pretty focused on Gaster. That's alright, he doesn't blame them, honestly.  
"I mean- in the scale of things. We monsters- we're sort of cosmic losers, aren't we? The universe- what we read about, what humans have discovered. It's boundless. And we're- we can't even get outta here, you know?"  
  
G: Gaster blanches, but his expression doesn't really change. He drags a fingertip over the table, making a sort of musical note with the metal mesh.  
"Tides can always turn, can't they? And aside from that, what gives you the impression the surface world is any bit more significant than ours?" There is a glowing mushroom in a jar in the center of the table, pulsing soft blue light between them. It catches Gaster's pupils, a little further forward in their sockets now that he's slept. "The universe is the same size no matter where we are on this world."  
  
S: Sans props his elbows on the table, rests his chin in his hands. His feet dangle above the ground in the cafe chair.  
"Y'know, that's not a bad point." He thinks it over as the server brings their parfaits. "The fact still remains, though, that- well- the universe is limitless, and endless, and even it will one day die."  
  
G: Gaster hides a laugh from their server, who gives them both worried looks over his smile.  
"E-enjoy.." Gaster waits until he's gone to talk again.  
"The universe will die, yes, one day. Eventually, perhaps billions of years from now when we are all dust. But that does not make our experiences, our oives right now, any less significant. Any less real. "

S: Sans takes his first bite of parfait. He swings his legs and his sneakers bump against the wire legs of his chair. It feels strangely immature, so he stops.  
It's a strangely perfect moment, sweet taste in his mouth and dim light and Gaster smiling. Like few Sans has had lately.  
"Guess I never thought smaller scale like that." But it's true. "Even if we were to change time, go back- the things everyone felt in this timeline still matter to them."  
  
G: "If we think so cosmically, secure in the fact that nothing we do is of importance- that everything will die and in the grand scheme, nothing truly matters- then." Gaster shrugs and pulls a candy cap from his tall glass, munches on it idly. He, too, props his face in a bony hand. "Well, we would never do much of anything, would we?"  
  
S: "We'd probably sit around and watch TV and eat hamburgers all the time." Sans slowly twirls the long handled spoon in his parfait.  
  
G: Gaster hums quietly, nearly gently. "Which is why you do exactly that, I imagine."  
  
S: Sans winks, forcedly casual, takes a bite of his parfait. "That'd be pretty dumb of me, wouldn't it? I'm probably cooler than that." He is not cooler than that. At all. He absolutely does that.  
  
G: "Oh, definitely." Gaster says it with the assuredness of a monster who has run it through a full battery of tests and a control group. "But everyone needs reminding that what they do matters every now and again."  
  
S: "Yeah. I guess so." Sans looks up, and maybe his grin is a little easier. Maybe. "Thanks, Doc."  
  
G: Gaster hums and digs into his parfait with lazy attention. Distracted again by some thing or another, perhaps caught up in his own thoughts for a long while.  
  
S: Sans swings his legs and eats. He doesn't normally have a sweet tooth, but he can't deny enjoying this.  
This- whole thing. Sitting here, the capital, this place, chatting with Gaster.  
It's. Possible he kind of may not make fun of Kenny so much after this.  
Shit.  
  
G: Gaster stares out into the city, his feet tapping softly against the cobblestone. He hasn't gone out in so long... The lab is his home, his workspace, his.. ball and chain? Mm, cruel lady science. Gaster sits up tall and straight, his hands clasped together, and his mouth turned to a grin.  
"This is fun," he realizes.  
  
S: It startles Sans out of a kind of reverie. "Yeah. Yeah, it is, isn't it?"  
  
G: "That is why I said it." Gaster cleans the last bits of yogurt off his spoon with his knucklebone and brings it to his mouth. "We should go out like this more often. Rest is just as important as work, I need to remember that from now on." He knows he won't, but saying it now will perhaps at least give him a while before even Sans starts nagging him to take a break.  
He knows they all do it out of concern.  
  
S: "Y-yeah." Yeah, cool, more one on one time with Gaster, going nice places, making nice conversation. That'll nip this in the bud.  
Totally.  
He still wants to do it, though. Wander around, talk to him. About stuff that isn't work.  
"What kind of other stuff d'you do for fun?"  
  
G: Hmm, "Save monsterkind." It's a joke, perhaps too based in reality. He is not as funny as Sans, and he accepts that. "I used to have a lot more fun when I was younger.. It feels as though I have been working on this forever and a day, I can hardly remember how to relax."  
  
S: "Sounds like you need an expert. Say, someone who relaxes up to twelve hours a day. A well-practiced relaxer. I wonder who could possibly help with that." Sans grins. "Perhaps a mentor, in relaxing."  
  
G: "A master relaxer?" Gaster winks.  
  
S: Sans snorts an awkward laugh before he can help himself. "You got it." God, Sans is an idiot. "Whaddaya say? Become my protege in laziness?"  
  
G: Gaster hums and slumps a little forward, almost mirroring Sans. "I did write the laws on equivalent exchange."  
  
S: "You make a halfway decent scientist out of me, I make you a proper lazybones. Total fair trade."  
  
G: "See, I knew this was a good idea going into it." Gaster laughs softly and leaves a small satchel of gold to pay and tip their server. He was such an adorable thing.. "For now, however, I think I should take you back home. Laziness can come another day."  
  
S: Does it have to end? Stupid question, of course it does. He's got a little brother at home waiting on him. Responsibilities.

He just kind of wants to keep living in whatever weird alternate universe this is where Gaster just takes him for parfaits for the hell of it.  
Well. "Rain check on the laziness, then." He yawns. "I will practice privately, at home."  
  
G: Gaster laughs again, covering most of it with a hand while he collects his sack of groceries with the other. "Do not practice too long, tomorrow will be another day at-" Ah, wait.. "I gave you the weekend off, actually..."  
  
S: "You sure did." Sans glances up at him. "Do you need me to come in, though? Cause I can."  
  
G: "How long has it been since you've stayed home? With your brother?"  
  
S: Gaster knows right where to hit.  
"Too long. Alright, alright, you twisted my tibia, I'll take the weekend off."  
  
G: Gaster scoffs gently and shakes his head. "I cannot stop you from coming to the lab, that is your decision. But, having met the only other skeletons in the underground.." He pauses to find the proper words for a moment, like he must get it exactly right. "I feel compelled to look out for the two of you."  
  
S: Having someone look out for you.... Not that Sans and Papyrus have been alone , per se- Snowdin has very much taken the 'it takes a village to raise a child' approach. But someone, in specific, worrying about their interests.  
"It means a lot." More than Sans knows how to articulate. "Monsters of a feather sticking together. Or, bone, but no adequate rhyme there."  
  
G: That's better.  
They find a mostly abandoned street before Gaster takes his new shortcut to Snowdin. This time not in the middle of a snowbank. He says his short goodbyes to Sans and hurries out the door before Papyrus can ask any more embarrassing questions.  
The groceries he leaves just under a table in the living room, when it's clear no one is looking.  
  
S: He's home in time to read Papyrus a bedtime story, even. Sans signs goodbye to Gaster, already listening to Papyrus chattering happily. He should probably make dinner, too- is there any pizza in the freezer?  
Gaster's gone before he can really say goodbye any better.  
Well. He'll just have to see him later and. Something. Sans feels like an idiot.  
  
G: "And Nacarat got in trouble because they punched PJ in the nose, right in the nose Sans, but PJ was being a total jerk about it." Papyrus takes a moment to wiggle his homework over his head while he inspects it. "Sans, can you go over my puzzles?"  
  
S: "Uuuh." Sans sucks at puzzles. "Yeah, bucko, lemme see." He takes a look at the worksheet. Papyrus's handwriting is still chickenscratch.... "Alright, walk me through this one, how does it work?"  
  
G: Papyrus rubs his palms together, looking absolutely mischievous. Nyeheheh.. "Well, first it goes like this," he demonstrates by pointing at different parts of the chart and twiddling his fingerbones around, "And then it zooms over here, and there's a dog-" He seems pretty excited about it.  
  
S: "Whoah." Sans still doesn't quite understand it. Papyrus is excited though. "That's a pretty intense puzzle. I don't know if even I could get through that one." Especially the dog? Why that dog. "What about this part over here?"  
  
G: " That, dear brother, is my _piece dee resistance_." He pronounces that completely wrong. "Since I mastered the Blue Attack, I need to start incorporating it into my puzzles! So this is where it comes in, as my super secret special attack ."  
  
S: "Special super secret attack." His enthusiasm is catching. "So- you turn them blue, and they- what- fall through here?" Sans makes a 'splat' motion with his hand.  
  
G: Papyrus hums, his hand scratching at his chin. "I hadn't thought of that..." He shuffles around his homework until he finds a specific one. The words 'cool dude' are spelled out in different colored bones along with a doodle of himself laughing in the corner of the paper. "Just because we're trying to fight humans doesn't mean we can't have a little personality!"  
  
S: "You know, that's a pretty cool super special attack." Sans hops his finger over the little bones, making "pshew" noises. "For a cool dude."  
  
G: Papyrus giggles, covers it up, and laughs much cooler instead. He falls quiet and scratches another note on his homework. "Do you think we'll ever see a human, Sans?"  
  
S: Cold, again. Like the night he came home and Papyrus's room seemed so empty, so silent....  
"Probably not, bro. I doubt any will ever come down here."  
  
G: "Then we'll never get out!" Papyrus seems distressed by it but only in a fleeting way. His sunny disposition sticks around, nonetheless. "It must be pretty great on the surface since everyone wants to go so bad."  
  
S: "I wouldn't know." Sans slumps back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table. Pap hates it when he does, but he does it anyways. "The surface is missing something pretty important, though. Something that makes the underground like ten times better."  
  
G: Papyrus opens his mouth to admonish Sans for putting his feet on the table, but he's distracted by his curiosity. "What's that?"  
  
S: "The Great Papyrus, obviously."  
  
G: "Oh!" He flushes, a little bit of pride and a little embarrassment. "Well.. Obviously!! The surface will not even compare until the great Papyrus sets foot there!"  
  
S: "Exactly." Sans folds his arms on the tabletop, yawns, rests his chin on them. "Till there's the Great Papyrus on the surface, I don't really care. What've they got? Sun? Overrated. Who even wants to go outside?"  
  
G: Papyrus gets to shoving Sans' feet off the table and shuffles his homework back together to stash in his backpack. He notices the bag under the table and pokes at it. It kind of....... wiggles. "Um, Sans... What's thiis?"  
  
S: "That's...." Sans looks under the table, and he lets out something between a laugh and a sigh. "Gaster, come on." He picks up the bag to take it to the kitchen. What is that thing? How does he cook it? He's sure he must be grinning like an idiot. Well, he always is, but...  
  
G: "Well, what is it?" Papyrus follows after Sans to the kitchen, trying to peek over his shoulder the whole time. Now the entire sack is kind of squirming and making crinkling paper sounds. And it's kind of weirding Papyrus out.  
  
S: "Uh. Food, I think." Sans starts looking up recipes on UnderNet and pulls out a tupperware container and starts dropping the wiggling nudibranches into it. Should he poke holes? Do they need to be alive when he cooks them? "They're a gift. I think."  
  
G: Papyrus gasps and watches the colorful little things wiggle around in the bowl. "Ohmygosh.." He seems enchanted for a long while, just watching the nudibranches do their... thing. "Can we keep them?"  
  
S: "Like a pet?" All these recipes seem needlessly complicated anyways...... Sans starts looking up the requirements for keeping them. They're aquatic? Crud. Sans runs water into the container. "Well. It's a pretty big responsibility. You think The Great Papyrus can handle it? We'll need to get a good aquarium, and whatever they eat." Which is apparently some kinds of little shrimps. Yum.  
In the bottom of the bag is some stuff he can work with, mushrooms and some base ingredients. He starts putting those in the fridge while the little creatures noot around in the water.  
  
G: "The great Papyrus is very responsible," he mutters in awe. They're so pretty.. Where did they come from? He didn't notice Sans with a bag earlier. Maybe that other skeleton that apparently has no relation to either of them, which Papyrus doesn't believe for a second.  
  
S: "Alright. Then I guess they can stay in your room, bucko." Sans finds a slightly bigger container and tips the water and creatures into it. He pokes holes in the lid and seals it up. "I got tomorrow off, we can go to Waterfall and pick up some supplies. Looks like they may have some aquarium stuff there."  
  
G: Papyrus gasps in awe and holds the little box close to his chest, one eye closed so he can peek into the little holes to see them. Nevermind that he could just... look through the clear sides of the container.. "Welcome, new friends, to the home of the great Papyrus.." He still sounds a little awestruck.  
  
S: "Don't shake em around too much." Sans still grins, though. If nothing else, Gaster managed to make Papyrus's day. Week, probably, how long has it been since Pap has been this excited?  
Sans probably needs to thank him somehow. Maybe with a gift? What the hell do you get someone that says 'thanks for taking me out and also giving me some weird creatures to eat but we kept them as pets and also for making me your pupil' without accidentallly including 'also i might have a weird little respect crush on you' ?  
Hm.  
He'll shop around online.  
  
G: It's a hard time convincing Papyrus not to stay up all night watching the new additions. He keeps them closeby all throughout dinner and only half pays attention to the story Sans tells, his pupils constantly wandering to the bedside table where he's decided they live. And maybe, secretly, he keeps a flashlight by the container so he can watch them while he falls asleep.  
  
S: Sans reminds him a couple times to actually sleep tonight- he barely ever does as is - but eventually he lets up and slips out to his own room. It's one of the first times he's gone to bed without being dead exhausted, and it actually takes him a while to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may increase the lengths of the chapters after this. Due to the RP format, clean places to have chapter breaks get harder to find as plot picks up. Tonight I will probably stop at 5 or 6 chapters, but since this is a 200,000 word monstrosity there is a lot to go.
> 
> Anyways. Talk to me at mister13eyond.tumblr.com .


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans spends a weekend off with Papyrus, and the lab team makes progress with the machine.

G: Papyrus can't remember the last time Sans was home for a few days, but... gosh, it's so nice! And absolutely horrible.. Someone must be teaching him new and worse jokes because he just keeps rolling them out.  
"Saaaaannnss, stop, that's not even funny!" He has the tupperware container of sea slugs in his hands, keeps it close so as not to shake it.  
  
S: "What, you don't want to try this aquarium just to get the _eel_ of it?" Sans' grin can only be described as 'shit-eating'. In all seriousness, he's thinking of this one. It looks nice, comes with some sponges and decorative junk, and isn't too expensive. Supposedly, he's getting more benefits and pay with the new position, though.... Maybe he can splurge a little. "Come on, let's make it of- _fish_ -ial."  
  
G: Papyrus groans and throws his head back, his feet stomping a little harder as he walks up to the monster tending to all the aquariums.  
"Do not be alarmed, citizen, but the great Papyrus needs your help!" His voice drops down to something normal. "Figuring out what to get for these little slug things."  
  
S: She mostly seems bemused, to her credit. "What've you got there? Can I see the container?"  
Sans steps over, but he lets Papyrus handle his own business. He's big enough to do that, now, and Sans doesn't want to hover.  
"These little guys mostly eat sponges. We've got some that they eat, though. Ovvverr.....uh.............. this way."  
  
G: "Thank you, citizen! Lead the way!" Papyrus follows close behind, looking quite unsure as he looks around the varities of tanks and foods and decorations. "My water wigglers must be the most comfortable and happiest water wigglers in all the underground."  
  
S: "We gotcha- what was it? Papyrus? Anyways. We will make these guys so comfortable . " She pokes around for a few things. She sees Sans with the gold, in the back, so the next few things she directs at him. "We've got this tank- you've got - how many, six there? Six, so the medium size... couple sponges...." She turns back to Papyrus. "And this cool pirate ship so they can be conquering warriors."  
  
G: It's obvious Papyrus is immediately drawn to the ship, his eyes lighting up and expression shifting to something like wonder.  
" _Oh_! Sans, look, the pirates even have a skeleton flag!" That's so cool. The wigglers can't possible be as cool as Papyrus himself, but they could get pretty close with that.. He holds up the container of nudibranches so he can see the ship through the plastic. Even though it's distorted by the shape of the tupperware, he still chuckles a quiet _nyeh heh heh_ imagining it all put together.  
  
S: "That's pretty cool." Sans starts counting out gold. "They even have a skeleton flag? Pap, I'd say it's _bass_ -ically set. Go for it."  
The aquarium shop girls' smile tightens. So, she's not a fan either.  
Sans starts sliding over gold as she lists off the requirements. "Tank cleaning is actually low maintenance, sponges help with that. Feed them once a week, and make sure they stay in a good temperature."  
"I'm positive the Great Papyrus can handle it."  
  
G: "The great Papyrus will be the best friend of all water wigglers, starting with all of these." Maybe they can eventually get a bigger tank. Maybe eventually they can _all_ live with him.  
  
S: Sans packs up the stuff and carries it. Ugh, heavy.... "Hey, Pap, take my hand." There's no way he's trekking all the way back to Snowdin hauling all this.  
  
G: Papyrus frowns and steps a little ahead of Sans. He has a couple of bags, too, though Sans kind of insisted on taking most of it. "The great Papyrus no longer needs to hold hands like a baby bones."  
  
S: "Come on, bro, I don't think you're a baby bones. It's just faster." He huffs and tries to heft the tank a little better. "The Great Papyrus needs to steady me, honestly."  
  
G: Oh! He wouldn't want the tank to break right after Sans just bought it.. Papyrus tries to settle his things in the bend of his elbow and takes the container of nudibranches in that hand so he has one free to help his brother.  
"How is it faster, that's silly." But he helps out anyway.  
  
S: "Here, set those guys in here and move this here..." He readjusts a few things so nothing will topple when he moves quickly. He loops an arm with Papyrus and walks with him like that a second, using the support to balance the tank better. "I know a shortcut, through this grass." If he times it just right, they should be able to step right out of the grass and into Snowdin. And Papyrus probably won't notice it's weird.  
  
G: It takes him a second to settle, and he can't really see around the tank he's helping to carry... But! Sans has never led him wrong. Not yet, anyway, even if he can be kind of lazy sometimes. But the great Papyrus can just pick up the slack! Like right now.  
He's about to ask how short this cut is going to make their trip, but he's already crunching through snow. "How come you know all the good shortcuts, Sans?"  
  
S: "I've had plenty of time to find em, that's all. You'll probably learn a few, too." And look, not too far from the house. Sans props the tank up a bit while he fumbles for his keys. Gets em, manages the door, and then oof, it's just the stairs.  
  
G: "Like in those scary house movies where they find a secret passage to the conservatory, and the power goes out, and a weird singing lady comes to the door?" Papyrus is very careful at his end of the tank, and they eventually manage to make it up the stairs. For now, everything goes on the floor of the landing between their rooms so he can clear space in his.  
  
S: "Uh. Yes? Pap, what movies have you been watching...." Sans peeks at the little things nooting around in their container. He guesses they are pretty cute. "You might have to clear a few action figures, Pap."  
  
G: Papyrus studies his desktop for a minute or two. He doesn't have that many actions figures, at least not yet. Surely he doesn't have to move all of them... "Brilliant!" Well, he figured that out quickly... He sweeps up his figures in his arms, deposits them on his bed, and gets Sans to help him carry the tank. He has to stand on his tiptoes in order to do it, but he starts carefully arranging the figures inside the tank like they are facing off against the pirate ship.  
  
S: Pretty crafty, honestly. "I guess you _figured_ it out, hey bud?" Sans starts plugging in filters and depositing sponges.  
  
G: " _Sans_ , " he groans with more than a little whine in it. His brother might actually be funny if he didn't constantly rely on puns.. Papyrus busies himself with finding a bucket for water and making the several trips from the kitchen to the bedroom it takes to fill the new tank.  
  
S: Sans reads the paperwork the aquarium girl gave them a couple times to make sure he has everything right. He's weirdly nervous. It's Papyrus's first pet, what if something goes wrong? Sans is really not about that 'lesson in responsibility' life, he kinda just wants Papyrus to be happy. He makes sure the filters are running and bubbling.  
"You wanna do the honors of putting em in their new domain?"  
  
G: Papyrus claps his hands a little, "Of course, it is my duty to greet them to their new home!" He seems incredibly excited, Sans' own nervousness not even touching him. Papyrus peels the lid off the container and brings it close to his face to utter a quiet welcome into the water. Despite his excitement, he is very careful pouring them into the tank and makes sure they only go in one at a time.  
The nudibranches wiggle around to get reoriented before seemingly spreading out to explore their bigger space. "They are very happy."  
  
S: "I'm sure they can't _tank_ you enough." He should probably stop.  
Nah, he's hilarious.  
They do look happy, though, wiggling around and exploring their surroundings.  
  
G: Papyrus actually punches his brother in the arm for that one. He heard PJ say a swear the other day that seems like it would probably express how he feels right now, but their teacher washed his mouth out with soap. Papyrus will just think it a little. "And they hate your dumb jokes!"  
  
S: "They do not, look, they love em. They wanna hear some more. Don't you guys?"  
  
G: The nudibranches wiggle and squirm in the water, weaving in and out of their decorations. After a few moments of coordination, they spell out 'yes' using their multicolored bodies.  
" NOOOOOO, you traitors! Mutiny!"  
  
S: That's. New. Sans' laugh is genuinely startled.  
"Looks like you've got some pirates on your hand, bro, since they treasure my jokes so much."  
  
G: Papyrus shoves Sans towards the door, or tries to anyway. "No bad jokes allowed in my room! New rule! None allowed!" Jeeze, Sans is heavy.  
  
S: "Uh oh, Papyrus, did you use your blue attack on me? I feel awfully heavy.... Can't move....!" Sans drops dead weight on Papyrus as his brother tries to push him out.  
  
G: "NO! No I didn't!" Papyrus makes a pretty valiant effort of holding Sans up, but his knees start to buckle after a few seconds. "You're so fat, get oooff!!"  
  
S: "I'm not fat, Pap, I'm big-boned." Sans flings an arm over his forehead. "And I can't pick myself up, I'm too heavy."  
  
G: Papyrus finally gives out and winds up as a lump under his brother. " Saaaaaannnsss, why are you always such a jerk! " He manages to crawl and wiggle his way out, and he tries pushing Sans out using just his feet.  
  
S: Sans rolls over and heaves a heavy sigh. "Fine, don't let your poor weighted-down brother lay here.... Guess I'll just drag myself out." He makes a big show of slowly rolling towards the door and out of it.  
  
G: " Good! " Papyrus slams the door and hears the thunk of Sans' head against it. Oops..... but maybe he shouldn't have been on the floor! He will.... probably apologize for that later, honestly, but for now he wants to talk with his new friends. New friends...  
  
S: Sans lets out a soft 'oof' when the door hits him, but he remains there for a while. Not....eavesdropping, per se, but maybe. Listening. Papyrus usually talks plenty to him, but Sans.... well, he worries.  
Also, he texts the science team while he's on the floor. Just a check in.  
  
G: There are a few snatches of Papyrus' conversation, but he is quiet out of respect for how small and wiggly the new nudibranches are. It's bits and pieces, mostly, though it's all excited. Things like.. " eat you?" and "seafloor" and most definitely "don't encourage him!"

Kenny is the first to get back to Sans. They type out something long and winding at first before erasing everything and writing something more concise instead. _Haggling with the king to get the other souls all day. The Doctor is angry, but he's dealing with it. We've been sitting on our thumbs all day._  
Bikeaby texts back soon after.  
_SHITS FUCKED, GASTERS PISSED, HOPIN THAT WE'LL GET DISMISSED  
_  
S: Leave it to Bikeaby. Sans finally picks himself up off the floor and leaves Papyrus to talk to his new friends. He's doing OK.  
He shuffles to his room to text.  
_can't say I regret the weekend off lol. why's king d holding out so much?_

G: _Because the d stands for douche_. Bikeaby lays his ears back to block out some of the shouting going on in the other room. He and Kenny exchange a look and get back to what work they CAN do for now.  
  
S: Jawbone is clearly dealing with the brunt of the yelling, but he seems used to it. He gives Bikeaby and Kenny a Look, but he keeps on persevering.  
Text from Sans. _maybe g can take the day off? its a waiting game right  
_  
G: _That's what the king keeps saying, but you know the doc. Kind of our fault, we reported his condition.  
_  
S: _man why'd you do that? king d frets._  
Sans regrets it after sending it. He quickly follows up.  
_gaster seemed kind of relaxed yesterday, thought he'd be alright taking it easy again  
_  
G: _you know the doc, always going_. It takes Bikeaby a second to register what the message actually says, though.  
_you were with the doc yesterday?_  
Not long after, a text comes in from Kenny. _What did you do?  
_  
S: Sans throws a hand over his face. Why did he type that? Now they're going to be all up in his business.....  
_i just crashed at the lab by accident, so i tagged along to get groceries. quit being jealous._ He's in a group conversation now, goddammit guys.  
  
G: Bikeaby snickers and makes kissy lips at Kenny. They flush deep red and sink partially below the edge of the table they're working out.  
_watch out, kenny's gonna fight you_  
_I will not._  
_yeah they will_  
_That is unprofessional, and I won't._  
_they're talking about fighting you right now  
_  
S: _im not even gonna fight kenny theres nothing to fight them over._  
Sans still has one hand thrown over his face.  
_i literally just tagged along bc im out of food at my house._  
Well, he won't mention the parfaits or.... Gaster coming to his house, or the nudibranches, or.  
Wow, he feels like an idiot reading so much into that.  
  
G: Bikeaby has a strange moment where it seems like the world is gone, but he realizes that's because he no longer hears the muffled shouting from the other room.  
_how are you out of food, all you do is eat and sleep._ He turns an ear towards the door before directing them both towards the sound of tiles shifting around by their table.  
"Sorry we kind of abandoned you, Jawbone.." Kenny does sound genuinely remorseful, but they can't entirely hide their look of relief.  
  
S: "Thanks, I really _like_ dealing with the Doc like that." Jawbone rests his forehead on the table. "He's silently sulking and going over paperwork. Closest I can get for now." Jawbone sighs. "You talking to Sans? Tell him hi."  
  
Text: _i ate all my food, what else do you think id do with it????_  
  
G: Kenny tells Sans _Hi from Jawbone._  
"I heard a lot of 'how dare you's and 'the audacity!'s." Bikeaby imitates Gaster very badly. Not because he's mocking the doctor, just because he's bad at it.  
  
S: "Yeah, you know, we're - what was it? Royally sanctioned thorns in the side of science, willfully keeping monsterkind underground for another century." Jawbone's sigh rattles the table.  
_hi jawbone, dont die_  
  
G: "Oof... I'm sorry, bud." Bikeaby's ears droop as he thinks about it. Damn, that's harsh... He pats Jawbone's big eyebrow out of empathy. Gaster can really lay it down.. "Is the king caving, or is Gaster gonna be like.. that for a while?"  
  
S: "The king has given a big load of ppppbbbbbbtttt." Jawbone blows an especially emphatic raspberry. "He's sort of caved. Conditionally. He says it'll take a little time to get them here, couple of days. So Gaster needs to rest until then. You know about how well that 'll work."  
  
G: "Damn.." Bikeaby texts Sans, _probably a good idea to chill at home for a while_. They need to keep an eye on him, it's their job, but he still kind of hopes Gaster sends them away. He's a real hassle when he's like this.  
"We'll just have to make fast progress when we get back to work." Kenny says it like it'll solve so many problems.  
  
S: _i can come in if you guys need me. maybe at least split the fury a few ways, right?  
_  
S: "Yeah, well. Whenever that is." Jawbone has been here the longest, he has dealt with this the most, but it doesn't make it easier. Not at all. "I've got some graphs and stuff I haven't really looked over. We can throw those at him. After that we'll.... Shit, I dunno. Keep fumbling on the small stuff, I guess." He snorts. "If it's such an emergency and Sans is volunteering so much, throw him at him. Maybe he'll stop being so heart-eyed at 'im."  
  
G: Kenny snorts and shakes their head, but they fall into silent sulking. Bikeaby kicks their chair under the table, scowling. "Wait, who has heart eyes in this situation? I'm confused."  
  
S: "I- okay that was a little shittily worded." Jawbone rolls his eye. "Sans has the heart eyes, Gaster is a salty old asshat."  
  
G: "I mean, I guess either could work out.." At this point he's just poking at Kenny to get under their skin. "The doc has yet to express his utmost disappointment, hasn't called Sans any kind of imbecile, hell they even went out on a date-"  
"You know that isn't true," Kenny corrects, their mouth below the edge of the table.  
  
S: "They went on a date?" Jawbone gnaws on the table a little bit from sheer disbelief. There are teeth marks all around its edge from cases just like these. "Hold the phone there. Repeat that, but this time don't lie."  
  
G: Bikeaby takes out his phone and holds it up for Jawbone to see. "Straight from the bonehead's mouth."  
  
S: "Ho-lee-shit." Jawbone notices Kenny's discomfort, though. "It's probably skeleton bias, honestly. He just likes him cause they're the same kind of monster or whatever."  
  
G: "Yeah, probably." Kenny glares at Bikeaby, who shrugs nonchalantly and props his feet up on the table. Kenny still doesn't look too good about the whole thing. "Sans slept here.."  
"Don't worry, Kenny, I'm not even sure skeletons can get boners. Which is ironic, considering.."  
  
S: "If we're discussing the logistics of skeleton fucking I'm leaving ." Jawbone gnaws on the table again. "May be Kenny's ideal research topic, but I'd rather lose all feeling in my face."  
  
G: Bikeaby actually laughs out loud and goes to say something awful and raunchy, but Kenny ducks completely under the table. Oh..  
"Please stop."  
Shit, okay. Too far. "My bad, little guy. We're done." Which unfortunately doesn't leave much to talk about except the work they're supposed to be doing.  
  
S: Which, as it stands, isn't much right now. They have a couple control points to focus on, but until they have comparative data, it's hard to isolate exactly which of them is the exact aspect they need to measure. There are still a few small data points to cross reference between the soul container and Kenny's clock, but.  
It's _boring_ . No wonder Gaster is losing his mind.  
Jawbone makes enough laps that the tiles start jamming. They're all still steering clear of the main room where Gaster is.  
"Let's harass Sans more." Which was such a good idea to begin with, right?  
  
G: "Let's just go home," Bikeaby counters. His head is leaned back, and he's been trying to catch crumpled paper balls in his face for a while now.  
"No, we need to work." Kenny hasn't really come out from under the table.. They just keep reaching a hand up, grabbing charts, and pulling them back down.  
  
S: "What is there to do , Kenny?" Jawbone paces, and a few tiles whirr and get overlapped crooked as they close up behind him. Oh, that's going to bug him forever until it rights itself.... "We're stuck, if I go back in there to talk to Doc he's going to chew my head off again, and the King's too busy trying to be a nice guy to actually- let us _do_ anything!" Gaster might.... be wearing off on him....  
  
G: Kenny pokes their head up above the table, just their eyes showing. "Well.. Maybe the Doctor is right, I don't know."  
"Come on, Kenny, get that out of your head."  
"You're lazy."  
"And sane?" Bikeaby sits properly again, and all the paper he's collected falls out. "You've both seen how he gets, he's fucking crazy. I don't wanna be like that, do either of you ?"  
  
S: "I don't mean we need to get like that , I'm just." Jawbone's pacing slows. "I don't exactly know what to do either , Kenny's not the only one, we've spent how many years now stuck in the lab? What do you do for fun lately, Bikeaby?"  
  
G: He scoffs, his ears laying down flat. "Party. Which is exactly what I did before taking this job, what's your point?"  
  
S: "With who? Hung out with all your old friends? Had a lot of time for your social life, Bikeaby?"  
  
G: "You think that's gonna be solved by locking myself down here with the mad scientist and his lackeys ?" Bikeaby's teeth are showing, sharp and shiny.  
"We'll get out of here a lot faster if we apply ourselves a lot better."  
"Yeah, and you know what happens when we get outta here?" He tosses his hands up. "Explosions! Mayhem! War!"  
  
S: "Then why even stay on the team? Leave! We'd make better progress without you. Do you even care?" Jawbone keeps moving back and forth between the two tiles that stuck, trying to reset them. It's not working. He's getting increasingly frustrated with it.  
  
G: Kenny reaches out a tiny hand and grabs hold of Jawbone's cheek to slow him down, maybe get him to stop.  
"Yes, I care, I just don't want to get to the surface just to get slaughtered! Is that so damned hard to understand?"  
  
S: Jawbone shakes off Kenny's hand and tries again before giving up and leaning on the chair they're sitting in. "Stay down here, then. The rest of monsterkind will be where we have some kind of hope for something to change."  
  
G: "You've heard the old stories.. We can become gods with a human soul, we have that power."  
Bikeaby hisses, his skepticism acidic. "Yeah, stories. That probably aren't even true. Or else the king would have gotten us out of here ages ago, wouldn't he?"  
  
S: "It's worth hoping." Jawbone doesn't sound convinced. He sounds tired, and restless, and frustrated. "What else have we got?"  
  
G: "Firewater?" Bikeaby shrugs.  
  
S: "You can drink. I'm going to find more work." Jawbone gives up and trudges off into the next room. Let Gaster yell at him some more, if he wants.  
  
G: Gaster looks frazzled still, slightly unkempt. He hunches lowly over a computer screen, watching the graphs tick by as the machine puts them out. Focused solely and completely. Perhaps it's to stop from blowing his top again, hard to tell with him. "I was wondering when you lot would stop arguing, it's distracting me from the nothing I currently have to do."  
  
S: "Next time we'll argue in a more productive manner, Boss." Jawbone is still cranky. "There are a few things to poke through, but we're as stuck as you are."  
  
G: "I have already given you an earful of what I think of that." And Gaster has always been loathe to repeat himself. Perhaps he's just too tired to argue anymore, as well. He certainly sounds it.  
  
S: "I remember that. I don't suppose there's any budging you on staying camped out here looking for scraps." Jawbone grabs a few charts off the desk and deposits them on another surface farther away from Gaster so he can look at them in peace. "Not even if we call Sans in."  
  
G: Gaster's mouth pulls into a skeleton's grimace, somehow mostly canine and premolar. "Your disdain in this moment is palpable and disgusting." But what should he expect?  
  
S: "Disdain? Why, because you're pulling blatant favoritism? Never. " Jawbone is mostly sulking. Entirely sulking. He's tired. "The three of us combined can't seem to convince you that you need to eat or sleep- and so do we- but Sans gets the weekend off for 'reasons unknown'."  
  
G: " Yes, how strange that I favor the one who wasn't hoisted upon me with great prejudice and faux-concern."  
  
S: "It's not faux concern!" Great, Jawbone raised his voice again, let's restart the yelling. "You think we'd sit through hours and hours of drudging through work if we didn't want this just as much? But monsters need food and sleep and breaks , doc!"  
  
G: His laugh is bone-dry and rattling, almost musical with the way Gaster's voice lifts with it. "And the Core was built in a day! Didn't you know?"  
  
S: "Whatever." Jawbone starts trudging out of the room again. "All of us here will work ourselves sick while your golden boy gets rest, something you apparently don't even get."  
  
G: " Then leave, " Gaster hisses through his teeth, "All of you, get out of my lab. " They grit hard enough to squeak, his pupils sharp little pinpricks as he stares daggers into Jawbone over his shoulder. Honestly, this is not the first time he's ever made the suggestion.  
  
S: "Sure, and leave you here to work yourself to dust." Jawbone is accompanied out of the room by quickly whirring tiles. "Maybe we will this time."  
  
G: There's a crash not long after, and Bikeaby ducks though the door is already closed again. He doesn't actually think he's ever witnessed Gaster throw something before, but this was... a particularly bad time. Certainly the worst he's ever seen. Kenny has been fidgeting since they heard Jawbone raise his voice again, and now they look about ready to bolt.  
"It'll be better when he gets the other souls. We just have to wait it out, and he'll go back to normal, right?"  
  
S: "Sure. Normal. Normal pushing us around, normal working till we're all sick. Back to normal." Jawbone is tired. "I'm going home. Stay if you want. He's not letting up. I don't care."  
  
G: They're all quiet for a bit, left in the awkward silence. If Bikeaby concentrates and turns his ears towards it, he can just barely hear the low muttering of Gaster in the other room. God, he sounds like a lunatic... "Come on, Kenny. I'll take you home, yeah? We can get high and eat cheese puffs."  
Kenny looks like they're about to curl into a ball and disappear, but they nod yes and hop up into Bikeaby's arms when he offers.  
  
S: "Can I." Jawbone hesitates a moment. "Join, too? I really don't feel like sitting around fuming." He doesn't really socialize much.... Getting high and eating cheese puffs sounds incredible, compared to this.  
  
G: "Yeah, but don't think I'm gonna roll you an extra large joint or nothin."  
  
S: "Honestly I want the cheese puffs more than the weed." Jawbone yawns. "Meet ya there, then."  
  
G: Bikeaby winds up rolling a bigass spliff for Jawbone, but he makes sure to lick it a whole lot to seal it up.

* * *

 

"And they said there are these weird things called dolphins that humans like but are actually big jerks, and that there are monsters really deep in the ocean, too, can you imagine that, Sans? Monsters even we didn't know existed!" Papyrus has been going on like this for a while, barely even managing to eat his cereal between trains of thought.  
  
S: "You're spilling milk, bud." Sans doesn't make any move to clean it up though. Papyrus' excitement is infectious, though, and Sans misses his mouth with a bite of pizza listening. "Did you get any sleep between finding out all this cool stuff?"  
  
G: Papyrus looks a little offended. "Well, of course I did, it was past my bedtime. And the nudis have to sleep too, you know." He pauses for a moment to wipe up the little drops of milk all over the table.  
  
S: "Well, good." Sans yawns. Somehow he feels more tired than ever, even having slept last night. "What do you wanna do today? Hang out with your new buds, or your bro?"  
  
G: "Oh! Uhhum.." He's visibly torn for a minute, his hands patting on the table. "You can hang out today?"  
  
S: "Yeah, I got a whole nother day off." Sans finishes off his pizza crust and frisbee-lobs his paper plate toward the trash. "Whaddaya say?"  
  
G: Papyrus is so excited he doesn't even get onto Sans for being a slob. "I will! Go put on real clothes! Right now!" He leaves the rest of his bowl of cereal and does just that, scampering up the stairs two at a time.  
  
S: Sans notices Papyrus' pants are getting too short, once they're both dressed. Is he really still getting taller? Sans is going to have to start buying his clothes too big, Pap won't stop growing.... "Alright, so. What's the agenda today, Great Papyrus?"  
  
G: "Well, since you are in the presence of The Great Papyrus for a whole day," he seems slightly mischievous, but he's almost always like that, "I thought, maybe, I could teach you my new super-cool, super-awesome, almost-patented special attack.."  
  
S: Actually, he's pretty interested in how Papyrus is doing with magic. He gets good marks in it, and Sans.... Sans doesn't really do a lot of magic. "I could stand to learn a thing or two from The Great Papyrus, honestly."  
  
G: Papyrus laughs to himself, under his breath. It'll give him a chance to practice, too, and he can always use more practice. "You can stand to learn a thing or two at all! Up and at 'em, brother!"  
  
S: "Whoah whoah. Let's take it outside. Don't wanna unleash all that powerful magic in the house." Sans leads the way to a snowy stretch out beside the house. "Alright, bro, gimme your worst."  
  
G: "My worst, nyeheh, you couldn't handle my worst!" Really. Sans only has one hit point, he can't really handle much of anything.  
  
S: "Well, how about your best then?" Sans is, if nothing else, pretty good at dodging.  
  
G: "Oh! The great Papyrus always gives one hundred percent!" He concentrates, his brows knitting together, and lifts his hands up into the air in front of him. Sans is blue now!! Yesss.  
  
S: The weight doesn't knock him on his ass now, that he's on guard, but Sans has to admit he's pretty impressed. Analytically he can parse together how the magic is working- might not be too hard to riff off of, actually- but not enough to break it. He shifts his weight, ready. "Not bad, Pap, what else you got?"  
  
G: Papyrus holds up his hands, "Prepare yourself!" His attacks often catch his instructors off guard, he's so good with them... Top marks! But he starts out slow for Sans. Papyrus lines up a few bone attacks and sends them towards his brother.  
  
S: Sans can't dodge side to side, not bad. So - facing them head on?  
Lucky they barely come up to his knees.  
He still hops for full effect over the attacks as they slide past. It'd sure be enough to catch someone off guard if they were used to typical spell cards.  
He feigns wiping sweat off his brow. "Not bad, but I think I can take more."  
  
G: "Of course you can! But the great Papyrus will always give the chance to concede!" Alright, now that Sans knows what to expect, he can start going all-out.  
Well, all-out enough to not take off any HP, at least. "Behold!" The next set are faster and vary in height. Eventually, he'll get Sans to break a real sweat.  
  
S: That's more like it. Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep the cold off his knucklebones.  
Sans doesn't exactly - work out- so the first few jumps he really does take a second to clear. There's a rhythm to it that makes it...kinda fun. He and Pap should probably practice more like this.  
The edge of a slipper catches on the last one, flings off, and Sans laughs as his sock sinks into snow. He still hasn't taken his hands out of his pockets, though. "Good to know my bro is no bonehead when it comes to magic."  
  
G: Papyrus groans, and the rhythm of his attacks is interrupted enough for his bone attacks to fade away. "Take this seriously!!" His bones are faster but controlled, and he mixes a few special ones in with the array.  
  
S: "I'm taking it seriously." After the little break, he actually has to stay on his toes. Literally, as his wet sock is seeping into his metatarsals and driving him crazy... "Just because I make a few puns doesn't mean you need to skullk ." It's a little dance of dodge, pause, clear a few, let the cyan ones slide through, dodge again. Pap is actually really good at this ..... If he really had any intent to stop someone, he'd stand a pretty good chance.  
Well, intent is the problem. Papyrus wouldn't hurt a fly.  
  
G: "Get ready!" He isn't so sure about the next set, Papyrus hasn't practiced with them a lot. But now is the time! He brings his hands together, and a set of bones come at Sans from both sides.  
  
S: Oh. That's actually pretty tricky. The first set, Sans messes up the timing, and his other slipper falls prey to the converging bones. He laughs, although it's almost a groan, as his other sock crunches into the wet snow. He can't jump too early, can't jump too late, and finagling the timing actually gets him a fair bit winded. He's really in poor shape, isn't he?  
Well, he could easily cheat, but that's no fair to Papyrus.  
He wonders how a human might fare against this, though.

No. No, he'd rather not think about that at all.  
  
G: Teacher told him to hum a tune if he needs help.. Papyrus comes up with something on the fly to help him keep rhythm, and he kinda likes it. The crossing bones come through with a definite beat, kind of predictable.. But this is just practice for now.  
  
S: Papyrus is humming under his breath..... Sans grins (was already grinning, grins more) as he hops. It does become kind of a dance, moving with Papyrus's quiet little beat. It's also actually starting to wear him out, even though it's getting easier to dodge. He doesn't have a whole lot of endurance....  
  
G: It's starting to wear Papyrus out, too, but he can see that Sans is getting tired. And honestly... he doesn't have a big finale yet. "Hey, Sans?"  
  
S: "Yeah, Pap?" Sans is actually sweating a little.  
  
G: "Do you have any attacks of your own?"  
  
S: "Hm." Sans thinks of Gaster, the coalescing darkness gathering, the world blinded with white. Of fucking with time and space, just a little.  
"No, I don't."  
  
G: "Oh." Papyrus finds one of Sans' shoes in the churned-up snow and brings it to him.  
"Then I, the great Papyrus will allow you to use mine! It can be a trademark.. The legendary skeleton brothers, working in tandem for the good of monsterkind!"  
  
S: "Yeah?" Sans accepts his slipper and slides it onto his sock. Both are damp. Whatever. Thanks, Pap.  
"Skeleton brothers of Snowdin. I like it. Guess I'll have to get as good as you."  
  
G: Papyrus spots the other sticking out of the brush and jogs over to grab it. "We will train! Every weekend, _no exceptions_ !"  
  
S: "No exceptions, huh?" Well, maybe he can swing that with Gaster, it sure seems like he's gotten in his good graces. And Papyrus really is gifted at it. Surely Gaster would want to encourage a talented young skeleton. "Alright, bro. We'll do it."  
  
G: Papyrus grins and runs up to Sans to throw his arms around his brother's shoulders. Oh, joyous day!  
  
S: "Hup!" Sans uses Papyrus's momentum to heft him up and around into a piggyback. Holy shit, though, Pap is getting tall.... he can't really lift him that much anymore. Didn't he used to be able to sling him around easy?  
  
G: " Nyeheheh! Forward, valiant steed!" To... where? "To milkshakes!" Papyrus doesn't even mind that his toes nearly drag in the snow.  
  
S: "Uuuuufff." Sans makes a big show of collapsing face forward onto the snow. "The great papyrus has grown too tall and powerful."  
  
G: Papyrus is slung forward and winds up face-down in the snow, too. He laughs into his own faceprint and rolls around. Every turn, he leaves a skeletal grin in the snow. "Maybe the great Papyrus will get big and powerful enough to carry you around."  
  
S: "Better get on it, Pap. Then you'll have to carry me around all the time and I'll sleep." Sounds ideal. And possible, Papyrus is getting taller every day.  
G: Hmm, Papyrus takes a little of that back. "For now we can both just walk to Grillby's."  
  
S: "Deal. I'll pay for my training in milkshakes." Sans stretches and gets up. He's dusted in snow, a little damp where it's melted. A little tired from practicing with Papyrus. Perfect time for a milkshake.  
  
G: It turns out a 'milkshake' is really just a glass of milk that Grillby has shaken so it gets all foamy. Papyrus sits at the bar, kicking his feet and blowing even more bubbles with a straw.  
  
S: Sans treats himself to a burg with his shake, extra ketchup. He didn't even put a whoopee cushion under Papyrus this time. "Grillby, did you hear? My brother's probably the best at magic around."  
  
G: Papyrus flushes and mutters a quiet nyeheh into his glass. "I am only the best in my class." He seems to consider as he chews on the end of his straw. "For now!"  
  
S: "First your class, then the Underground, then the world." Sans yawns. "As a result, I think our bill should be on the house, right?"  
  
G: Grillby flickers a little higher, but he seems to concede after a moment. His sigh crackles.  
"What grades did you make in your classes, Sans?" Papyrus probably should have asked that a long time ago, really... His brother doesn't even have his own magic!  
  
S: Sans' brow furrows. Admittedly he sort of started in the middle of school, after most of his classmates had the chance to actually grow with their classes.... "Uhhh. I did.....okay." Top marks in one class and lowest marks in the others average out to 'ok', right? The truth is that Sans didn't even try at most things unless they interested him. It's a wonder he got into school for physics- but then, he was one of only a tiny little chunk of monster applying for the science department, they were willing to overlook a few things.  
  
G: "I guess you had to be if you work for the royal scientist now, right?" Papyrus slides his glass back towards the other side of the bar. Grillby shakes up a new glass, adding a little chocolate in. For top marks, he hisses from somewhere in his core.  
  
S: Sans grins at Grillby, pokes the little umbrella from his own milkshake into the top bun of his burger.  
"I got to submit a paper to the King himself to try and work for the royal scientist. So I had to try really hard on that paper. But I had trouble in a few things before that. I'm kind of a numbskull at magic."  
  
G: Papyrus' eyes practically sparkle, and he sips from his new shake with slow appreciation. "Thank you, Mister Grillby.." Maybe this bar wasn't so bad if the owner was so nice. "It's a good thing you have the great Papyrus to teach you, brother! Who knows what would happen otherwise.."  
  
S: "Nothing." Sans is a little quick to say that.... "I'm never gonna need to get in a fight, that's all. I'll just avoid it."  
  
G: Papyrus scoffs, but he quickly gets distracted by his drink. They're going to practice every week now, Sans promised. He'll get him in tip-top shape in no time!

* * *

S: "Gooooood morning losers." Sans is pretty much whistling when he walks into the lab. "You guys didn't miss me too much, huh?"  
  
G: Kenny is the first to turn towards the sound of Sans' voice, and they send a glare his way that could probably melt his face... if he had a proper one, at least. Otherwise, they are silent.  
But Gaster seems much calmer about the state of affairs, now that the weekend is over and he has his new project. The five souls, all in such a pretty array of colors, sit before him in their glass jars. He and Bikeaby hunch over the table, each working on a chip to attach to each container. "Incredible, you are here on time. Color me impressed." The doctor does not sound the least bit impressed.  
  
S: That's..... not exactly the welcome Sans was expecting. He tentatively takes a seat next to Bikeaby, looking through a couple things. The other souls all look so bright and .... strong , he guesses, is the word.  
Is Kenny that upset about the grocery thing, or....? "I even came in a lab coat, I should get bonus points, right?"  
  
G: "Sans." Gaster taps a fingerbone against one of the containers without looking up at all. He holds his chip up to the light to inspect it and seems satisfied with it. "We have the opportunity to make a lot of progress. Make sure to contribute."  
  
S: "Don't I usually?" He's joking. Trying to. Why does everyone look like someone peed in their snail pie? "Uh, so. Anyone watch any good TV this weekend? You, Jawbone?"  
Jawbone looks up. "No, I worked. And I'm going back to work."  
  
G: For once, Bikeaby kinda wishes everyone would stop talking.. It's giving him a headache. And anxiety. He may already have a little bit of that. "This one's calibrated, boss. Who am I applying this to?"  
Gaster slides one of the souls closer to him, and it thrums green in response to being moved. He takes the yellow for himself. "The chips are fast work. Synchronizing them will take more effort."  
  
S: "I'll just, uh." He'll just what? Go fuck himself, apparently, with the way everyone is looking at him. "I can start working on some of the other ones while you guys sync that, I guess. Or help Kenny with whatever they're- what you working on there, bud?"  
  
G: "Still trying to pull data from these. It may take hooking them up to the machine to even figure out what the hell we're looking for, though.." Kenny can at least try to be professional.. After all, Sans hasn't done anything wrong, not really. So they can take the high road about this whole thing. "It's, uh.. difficult being the first monsters to discover anything about humans, you know."  
  
S: "Yeah, well, we don't really have anything to compare it to, I guess." Sans rolls his chair over to where Kenny is at. The atmosphere in the lab is bugging him, at least (after the death glare) Kenny is being civil. Plus, their work is more his style- he kind of blows at the tiny detail work of working on chips. That's Bikeaby's specialty. "What's standing out to you?"  
  
G: Kenny brings their graphs close, sharing them with Sans. If they think about it, Gaster's the jerk.. But they've known that for a long time, and it doesn't really help. "That's the thing, they seem to be very similar to each other. On the surface, one soul doesn't look that much different from any other. But we saw that the machine synched specifically to the most recent human, so. There's just something we can't see yet."  
  
S: "Common links are one thing, but it didn't sync up to the others, so." Sans props his jaw in his hand while he looks through the charts. He glances; everyone else seems to be distracted working, so. "Hey, Kenny. Are we cool?"  
  
G: "Hm?" Kenny heard him perfectly well, but they still haven't quite decided. "What do you mean, Sans?"  
  
S: "I just mean...." Sans runs his knucklebones over his jaw while he tries to decide what to say. Eventually he shakes his head. "I can talk with you when we're not working. I just wanna make sure we're cool."  
  
G: Well, that buys them more time at least. "Okay, Sans. Whatever you need."

With the two of them working at it, Gaster and Bikeaby get the chips done quickly. After that, it takes a moment of tinkering with their coding to get all the graphing correct. It's as Kenny says, on the surface they all seem to be very much the same. Still, Gaster has all of them stop and gather round.  
"Everyone grab a soul and come with me. Theoretically, with the work we've put in, this should work."  
  
S: Sans taps one bony finger over the glass with the cyan soul. He hums, picks it up. He looks at the others, each holding one. Huh... guess there are five of them, and five souls, aren't there?  
Well. He carries his soul very carefully, studying it as he follows Gaster.  
  
G: There is an addition on the machine, a faintly-glowing pad just big enough for one container. "We concentrated how it reads, removed the baubles for ambient energies and focused them into one powerful tool to read human souls." Gaster explains for Sans' sake, though it doesn't seem like he's speaking to anyone at all. "Kenny."  
The little monster jumps a bit, caught off-guard. "Yes, doctor?"  
"Yours was the fourth soul, and this is your invention. Shall we work backwards, so you may do the honors?"  
"Oh, I... Thank you!" They need a boost up to the pad.  
  
S: They've been at work, haven't they? Suddenly Sans feels a little guilty about the weekend. What'd he do to help monsterkind? Eat burgers? Sleep ten hours a night?  
"I got you, K." Jawbone ... kneels? Ducks? So that Kenny can step atop his head and he can lift them.  
  
G: Kenny carefully steps up, the container held tightly to their chest to avoid dropping it. They slide the soul into place, and it glows faintly in response to being jostled.  
"Well.. Here goes nothing, I guess." Kenny types something into their machine, and the chip on the container blinks the same color as the pad.  
The great machine slows down, its great steel loops coming to a halt in mid-swing. "Oh, no.."  
  
S: "Wait, that's something though, isn't it?" Sans is holding the soul, so he can't reach to mess with the display, but he is curious. "It never stopped before, not even when the last human- you know....."  
  
G: "It.. may be too much for the machine, it's pretty crude despite how big it is.." Kenny carefully climbs up onto it, their little feet just barely fitting between important fixtures and buttons. "Or maybe the magnetics fizzled out.. I can fix this, I promise."  
"I know you can," Gaster assures. It seems, somehow, apologetic.  
  
S: "Hey, be careful." Jawbone cranes his neck to try and keep an eye on Kenny. "You need anything up there? Any tools? A boost?"  
"Snacks, a condom?" ......Jawbone just looks at Sans. Has he really not seen Mean Girls?  
  
G: Bikeaby laughs, one solid "ha!", before laying his ears down and looking to Gaster. He expects admonishment, but none comes.  
"No, I built this thing on my own. I can repair it just fine, too." They get to the big orb in the center and open up a panel to peer around inside.  
"Kenny, I think you should get down."  
"I can fix it, Doctor, _please_ \- "  
  
S: "Kenny, you're making me nervous." Jawbone sticks close to the machine, and he's trying not to move much. Kenny is such a small monster, and Jawbone so big, and the machine is so big. "Come on, we can re-calibrate it in a second. Just...."  
  
G: " Just let me _do this-_ "  
Even Gaster jumps as the machine lurches, a new lobe splitting off from the other two. It turns, lazy and steady, as the others start up again. Slow at first, nearly in tandem, but they quickly speed up until the air whistles against the rings. Catching up for lost time. Looks like it works just fine, Gaster thinks rather morbidly, even as he watches Kenny's feet slip out from under them.  
  
S: Everyone moves as fast as they can, no one moves fast enough. Sans finds himself desperately trying to find a way to somehow just-  
If he just-  
could jump back a second?  
just one, before they slipped, he could probably catch them, right?  
his ears are ringing. "Doc, do _something_ -"  
  
G: Gaster vaguely hears something like the shattering of glass, Bikeaby you imbecile, and grits his teeth harsh to build up power in the short time he gets. It's dark at the corner of his vision, perhaps just dark all around, and everything _twitches_.  
Kenny's hands fly and find purchase on the edge of the open panel, and Bikeaby fumbles only enough to get his grip back on the soul. A migraine flashes behind one of Gaster's eyes, and a sweat breaks out over his brow.  
"Just wait, wait for it to catch up." He presses against the eye that aches, hiding it from the light.  
"God, what was that? "  
"An anomaly with the machine, there were bound to be some."  
  
S: Sans is-  
fine?  
Not fine?  
Kind of dizzy.  
Kenny's holding on, though, and once the rings stop spinning, Jawbone should be able to reach them- the machine is making kind of a fucked up noise, but something sort of fuzzes around the edges when he tries to remember if it was making that noise a moment ago.  
"Hang on, bud, just hang on, I'll get you in a second." Jawbone sounds vaguely panicked, but- it could be worse? Right?? Something feels worse, somewhere. Kind of uneasy.  
  
G: Kenny looks like they're just a couple seconds from losing their lunch, but they lay their forehead down on the cool metal of their own machine to wait it out.  
"There you go, Kenny, just like that.." Gaster finds his way to a railing to support himself, panting gently and trying to hide it. The sharpness in his skull throbs and burns, and he feels the heat of it against his palm.  
It takes a solid eighty-five seconds for the machine to come to its natural pace, each ring out of sync with the other but lazier now. Kenny carefully, carefully shifts until they can hop down to Jawbone, and they cling tight against him.  
  
S: "I got you, I got you." Jawbone pulls Kenny away from the machine, over to a corner that seems safer, mumbling to them. He's not really saying much, just 'got you' and "don't scare me like that again."  
Sans lets out a shaky breath, looks over at Gaster. Everyone seems distracted, but Gaster.... Sans slips over to him.  
"You okay, Doc?"  
  
G: "Hn?" Gaster lifts his head and finds Sans with his uncovered eye. "Yes, I just. Need a moment." Slowly, very slowly, he takes his hand away from his eyes and blinks away some of the glow from his vision. It still lingers, leaving afterimages across the lab, but he has to make such Kenny is okay. "Jawbone, please, bring them to me."  
  
S: Jawbone looks up to confirm if it's OK with Kenny, but he moves over to Gaster with them still clinging to him. Sans steps aside so Jawbone can get where he was, but he keeps an eye on Gaster. For a second he thought his eye was....  
No, it doesn't matter. Focus on what you can confirm. He breathes out again, sets the soul container in his hands down and crosses the lab to get the first aid kit in case Kenny is banged up at all.  
  
G: Bikeaby joins up with Sans, the jar with the soul still held tight to him. "Shit, man, what did he do? What did the doctor do?" He's still shaken.  
Kenny reaches out for him, a good sign, and Gaster takes the little monster up in his arms. "You do not have to prove yourself to me, I already know." He catches Jawbone's eye and looks away. There's a quiet shame in him, perhaps an apology, but that is something for some other time.  
  
S: Sans grabs up cotton balls and ointment. He's still a little dizzy at the edges. Bikeaby's voice is usually grating, but even more so now.... "Fixed it, that's it, Doc fixed it." He just grabs the whole first aid kit. And a bagel for Kenny from the lab fridge, just in case.  
"Bikeaby.... tell me exactly what happened, for you, start to finish." He glances over at the others. Jawbone looks back for a second, and - at least- his relief is so palpable he doesn't seem angry anymore.  
  
G: "It's like.. It's like.. " Bikeaby swallows and shakes his head to try to calm down. "Uhm, I. Saw Kenny fall, and I saw myself dropping this thing. Or I thought I did." He swallows, his nails scratching against the glass casing. "But then.. But then I didn't really see it, but I knew it would happen if I didn't. If I didn't do something."  
  
S: "More vivid than just a worst-case 'what if' imagining, right?" Sans brings the items over to Jawbone, who nods a short approval. Sans crosses back, hanging behind with Bikeaby, fingerbones clicking on the countertop with nervous energy. "Not just could happen, but did , or would unless another split-second decision was made." Simultaneously the worst and best outcomes, converging, and last minute veering into the other lane. "Like everything jumped to the other side of the coin toss, midair."  
  
G: "I saw them get dusted man, I.. I saw it, I swear." Bikeaby says it low enough so no one besides Sans can hear.  
Gaster somehow coaxes Kenny's face out if his shoulder. "Look, look. We have done it, your invention is growing."  
  
S: Sans is tired . He always is, to some extent, but even more now- like he's lived two whole days. Is this what happens? Is this how.... He shakes his head, a little. "Me, too." To Bikeaby only. "But they're alright. That's- all that matters, yeah?" He taps the countertop one more time before he returns to the others.  
"We're gonna discover a lot. We're gonna learn a lot." Jawbone is kind of hovering around Gaster and Kenny, still in crisis mode, but he's trying to be reassuring. Sans kind of pats the top of his head to cool him down.  
"Yeah. It means a lot, K. You've done a lot."  
  
G: Kenny seems to eventually calm down, their hands no longer balled so tightly in Gaster's coat, though they don't seem quite ready to get out if the doctor's lap yet. That's alright, that was such a close call. Gaster doesn't even seem to mind.  
"Now we know there's a delay. It needs time to process, but it works perfectly." Gaster nods towards the souls, each in turn. "We will load them all in so we can start taking down charts. Thank you, Kenny, this would not be possible without the work you've done."  
The little monster swallows a couple times before resorting to nodding rather than talking.  
  
S: They're all a little shaken, but there's a way forward in sight. Sans takes a shaky breath, feels his ribs expand with it, lets it out. "Well, we'll just keep going in chronologically." He's got aqua, so.... according to the reports, he'll be last. He pats Jawbone on the head one more time to knock him out of his reverie.  
"Yeah, alright. Just- let me get mine." Jawbone keeps a wary eye on the machine as he approaches with his container.  
G: Again, the machine halts as it processes. They get a better look at it this time, at the manifestation of how broken their time is. Another graph feeds out of the machine, and Bikeaby keeps his ears pressed back to avoid getting one caught in the overlapping rings.  
Gaster seems more than satisfied, closer to awed.  
  
S: It's hard not to get caught up in it. They're all being confronted with time in a physical, literal, tangible way. The ways it breaks. The ways it reforms.  
Sans starts gathering and pinning up reports to keep his hands busy, and since Gaster and Kenny are still curled up, Gaster watching in awe. He feels strange and excited and queasy all at once.  
  
G: Once the last soul slides into place, once the machine has processed it and added it to its sibling, Gaster takes a long minute to appreciate the progress made all because of one invention. There's a multitude of new information to pick through, the graphs wallpapering the labs and promising to be a new obsession. Each soul thrums and each new arm swings with the subtle thumps, filling the air with near-silent rhythms. Heartbeats. Breaths. All those little things that measure the passage of time to humans. "Glorious.."  
  
S: "To think. We probably know more about humans right now than in most of recorded monster history. " Jawbone is sipping coffee out of a bowl with a straw. He's been studying the graphs on the wall since they first started, and he's kind of filled with jittery excitement. Sans feels it too.  
"And there's more to do."  
  
G: "Progress! Progress, my associates, makes the heart grow fonder." Gaster's bad mood has lifted entirely, and Kenny has calmed down considerably from earlier.  
The only one who is still wound up, it seems, is Bikeaby. But he's s twitchy at least half the time.  
  
S: Sans has mostly forgotten about anything that isn't Excitement about Progress. He's sort of rambling, mostly to the other assistants. "Once we isolate it, we can start cross - comparing with monsters, can't we? Imagine- doing whatever you want with time and space."  
  
G: "This has enormous implications for the war, doesn't it?" Kenny speaks for the first time since their close call earlier, though they still occasionally grab hold of Gaster's long coat. Knowing the little monster, they will likely stay there as long as they can. "What if every human has this ability? It's... kind of frightening to think about, isn't it?"  
"Absolutely terrifying!" The doctor seems taken by the idea of it, however, his grin stretched wide across his skull. "And encouraging."  
  
S: "Encouraging?" Sans isn't so sure about that. "Means they have a LOT of innate advantages over us. Humans kill monsters much easier, and now we find time is their playground."  
  
G: Gaster hisses a laugh and shrugs. "And we have the ability to become gods with a single human soul. If we could transcend the bounds of time and space at the same time.." His hum is very warm and melodic.  
"Sounds like another massacre.." Bikeaby is smaller than usual, perhaps a little impish. Talking about the surface, about what happens when they get out of the underground... It freaks him out a bit.  
  
S: "Who knows how many of us got massacred driving us underground." Jawbone seems flippant. "We don't have the numbers humans do, we need every advantage."  
It feels strange thinking about after. About a war. "I dunno. I just wanna learn everything right now, and think about that later."  
  
G: "Nonsense, science is directionless without a goal. We must keep the proposed end in sight, to drive us forward. So we don't forget the importance of what we do."  
  
S: "Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry." Sans doesn't like it, though. War means monsters could get hurt. Will, probably. Thinking about it makes him cold, dizzy.  
Learning, though, just to learn- for the hell of it....  
well, the results are the same. He wants to keep going as much as anyone else.  
  
G: Still, the excitement is tangible in the air. It hangs and thumps with the beating souls and the thrumming machine. What an incredible advancement, Gaster is truly impressed. His mood is infectious, it seems like a talent he has. "Get to measurements and notes. Grunt work is just as much part of the process as excitement, and we may finally begin to move forward now."  
  
S: "First round of coffee is on me." Sans did start his career here as an intern, after all.  
It's the kind of amicable quiet in the lab that comes with deep focus. Occasionally someone will call out a number or a pattern, but mostly it's shuffling paper and quiet musing. These are the times the lab feels best. Like home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tripleCrocodilian's little bro Papyrus is so unbelievably cute.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans takes on a side project for his thesis.

G: Calm, calm, calm, like the beating of a heart. Gaster only recalls this kind of quiet serenity when he thinks of the last stages of working on the Core. The maths and graphs and comparisons stream through his skull like water, cool and refreshing.  
He hums lowly as he works, and between that and the gently rhythm of the machine even Bikeaby grows calm again.  
  
S: Slowly they all descend into yawning, little twitches of trying to stay awake, third and fourth cups of coffee. Everyone seems hesitant to stop working. Sans nods off on a chart and jerks back awake to try and find his place on it. There's still so much to do.  
  
G: Gaster eventually notices how quiet it's grown in the lab and makes a trip to find blankets to pass around. Kenny, tiny thing, probably dozed off an hour ago. Bikeaby and Sans don't look much farther behind them. He supposes this is the closest to privacy he will get for a while, so he catches Jawbone's attention and nods to the door.  
  
S: Jawbone yawns too, a big yawn for a big monster, but he nods and follows Gaster. When he speaks it's quiet so as not to wake or disturb the others. "Boss?"  
  
G: "We should speak, you and I. Now seems as good a time as any." Gaster doesn't bother checking behind him for Jawbone, he simply makes his way up to the ground floor.  
  
S: Jawbone follows, in his way, burrowing and coming back up after Gaster. He's been looking at things directly in front of his face for so long that his vision is blurry. "Let's talk, then."  
  
G: The Core thumps in the distance, its bellows pumping and piping power to the rest of the underground. The heat of this land had never been much of a problem for him, he feels it only in the most basic of ways, but he knows his partners hate it terribly. It's for that reason only that he keeps to the open doorway, the air conditioning at his back.  
"How long have you been working with me, Jawbone? A few humans, at least..."  
  
S: "Several years now." How many times has Jawbone considered quitting? But nights like this always happen, discovery, the thrill of something new. The rest of the team has helped. Even Bikeaby, in his way. And Jawbone really wants to help monsterkind.  
  
G: The longest of any of them, certainly. Gaster is quiet for a while, perhaps a little frightened of what he wants to know, but the answers aren't always easy to handle.  
"Have I become cruel?"  
  
S: Jawbone pauses for a while. The heat of the core dries his eyes out. He blinks it away.  
What can he say? Yes? No, it's not so simple as that. He thinks of the shouting match over the weekend, Gaster's fits, his spirals.  
"There's a difference between callous and cruel. You don't hurt anyone with intent."  
  
G: "I feel as if there was a time I actively avoided it." What are monsters made of, after all? Made of, yes, but Gaster sometimes wonders how far 'nature' goes.  
  
S: "There was." When Jawbone first started working for him, he looked up to Gaster immensely. Not just in a literal sense. He sees it in Sans, now, that hero worship that hasn't quite been tamped down. Even Kenny is more aware of Gaster's cruelty. "You got too tired to try, I think."  
  
G: His laugh is mostly air and amusement, but it quickly fades off to even less.  
"Do you think, perhaps, that is a hypothesis we can test?"  
  
S: "What's our variable?" Jawbone does crack a grin at that, almost his usual grin. "Amount of rest on the X axis, asshole levels on the Y axis?"  
  
G: "I am being serious." Gaster is nowhere near as amused with Jawbone's answer. "I thought, perhaps, I was simply growing more frustrated with our lack of progress. But even now.." He thinks back several hours, to watching Kenny tumble down into the swinging arms of their own machine, and pulls a snippet from there. His own voice in his head murmuring, _how inconvenient_.  
  
S: Jawbone's smile fades. "Test it then, Doc." He shifts to look out at the Core around Gaster, the heat shimmering the air. "The others don't really know what you were like before. But I do. If you think there's a way to go back...."  
  
G: Going back is what they're all trying to do, isn't it? To go back where they can fix things. Make it all right. Perhaps he can right himself, too, if he puts his mind to it.  
"Yes.. Yes, thank you." Gaster falls into distraction, caught up in his own thoughts.  
  
S: He'll likely be caught in introspection the rest of the night. Jawbone murmurs a "goodnight doc", unsure if it even gets heard, before moving out to sleep himself. There's endless work and discovery ahead.  
  
G: Oddly enough Bikeaby is the first to wake. It's something that only happens rarely not necessarily because Bikeaby can be incredibly lazy, but more because he hates the awkward silence that hangs when everyone else still sleeps. He is not nearly as quiet or sneaky as his siblings and parents, but he tries very hard to be.  
He winds up elbowing Sans anyway, hissing "shit, sorry," through his grimace.  
  
S: Sans snorts awake mid-dream and has to blink away sleep. He tugs the blanket over his head to try and block out the overhead lights. "You're up early." What time is it? He checks his phone. Oh, a goodnight text from Pap....  
  
G: The text is the entirety of Fluffy Bunny in all caps, with pictures of each page. Quite a few of them are out of focus, one or two mostly covered by Papyrus' fingers. It's the thought that counts.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry man. Go back to sleep, my bad." Bikeaby fishes around in his pockets for a lighter, but he winds up huffing when he can't find it. "Hey, actually, you got a match or something?"  
  
S: Sans smiles at his phone and texts back.  
_"thanks, bro- couldn't have slept without it."_  
He sits up, stretches and yawns. Sans' spine aches from sleeping hunched over his desk. He doesn't have any matches, but he finds a Bunsen burner stashed under the cabinet and lights it. "Actually.... can I bum one of those?" He wants coffee, but he's known to occasionally smoke.  
  
G: "It's my last one.." But he knows he has, like, an entire box back home. Whatever. "Well, I won't give you cooties."  
Bikeaby pulls out one of his pre-rolled joints and lights it on the burner. Hard to do without catching his fur on fire, but he manages. "Come on, doc hates it if I hotbox the lab."  
  
S: "Yeah, yeah." It's more hot than hotboxing stepping out of the lab, dealing with the core, but he'd rather not stink up all his work area as it is.  
He shrugs off his hoodie when they get outside, ties it around his waist and sits down with his legs crossed. The magma rock under his legs is rough and he runs his fingerbones over it. "You always smoke before working this hard?" Sans has a hard enough time getting motivated, he can't imagine smoking more than occasionally.  
  
G: Bikeaby snickers and shrugs. "Yeeaah, totally. All the time." His laugh peters out to nothing, and he takes a long drag off the joint. "No, I. I don't know, I think I'm just a little fucked up over yesterday, still."  
  
S: Sans reaches for it and takes a hit. Smoke pours out of his eye sockets and between his teeth when he exhales. He closes his eyes, still kind of drowsy.  
"You wanna know a secret?"  
  
G: Shit, that looks really cool.. How come smoke only comes out of one of Bikeaby's face holes? That ain't fair.  
"I fuckin' love secrets."  
  
S: "Yeah, well, it's one of those keep it or I could be in trouble secrets, so don't go blabbing." Sans sighs and hands back the joint. "Gaster's done some.... experiments. On himself. I only know because he taught me a few of the tricks. He does some stuff that.... fucks with time, a little."  
  
G: "Like how humans can do?"  
  
S: "Not all the way." Sans rubs his carpal bones over his eye sockets. God, he needs coffee. He'll make another pot when they get inside. "He can't do that much. But- half a second, a little- second chance, I guess?" Sans laughs, quietly. "I think- I think that's what happened."  
  
G: Bikeaby shakes his head and takes the joint back to take a drag. He's got a decent fuzz in his head, but a lot of it is sleep still clinging on.  
"You think he did that to save Kenny, huh?" He's quiet for a little bit, mulling it over. "God, he's fuckin' scary, isn't he? But at least he's on our side."  
  
S: "I'm glad we've got him." Sans takes another hit, lets it settle in his bones. He snickers and lifts his shirt so the smoke seeps out from between his ribs. He should probably stop playing around.... "Without him, Kenny might be...."  
  
G: "No, nuh-uh. We're not talkin' about that." Bikeaby's ears lay down flat, and he grimaces. "No, I don't. Wanna think about that." He falls quiet for a long while, thinking solidly that it's too early in the morning for this shit.  
  
S: "Yeah, alright, nothing said. Forget it." Sans takes another hit of the joint and passes it back. He's already pleasantly fuzzy, doesn't want to cross into full-blown 'high' if he can manage it. Gaster would probably kill him, then reset and kill him again. "Hey, Bikeaby. Do you like anybody?" Gossip is totally a great early morning distraction.  
  
G: Bikeaby scoffs and blanches, but he waits until he's taken another hit to answer. "No, I don't. So you don't gotta worry about me making goo-goo eyes at the Doc, too."  
  
S: "I'm not...." Sans grimaces. "It's not even like that." Totally. "Is that why Kenny was so mad at me?" This is stupid, office drama and who-likes-who is stupid. Sans leans his head back against the wall. "This is dumb, I hate this."  
  
G: "Kenny can handle a little friendly competition." Why they feel the need to compete over Gaster, Bikeaby doesn't know. "No, that was over.. other shit. The doc blew up over the king sticking his snooter in, and we got the brunt of it."  
  
S: "Oh." That makes a lot more sense. Sans fidgets with the knot where his hoodie is tied around his waist. "I guess I should have come in. It's just- my brother never really sees me, so..." Sans yawns. He's mellow and fuzzy, but now all he really wants is to curl up and be comfortable and eat junk food. "Next time I'll at least suffer with you all."  
  
G: Bikeaby shakes his head a little. "Family's important. I didn't know you had any, actually."  
  
S: "Yeah." Sans stands and stretches, his spine popping in a few places. "Little brother. It's always just been me and him." Maybe he can take one more hit.... "You got family?"  
  
G: "Yeah." Bikeaby tries to take another hit, but the roach singes his fur. Well... Fingerbones can't get burned. "My mom, my gram, and seven other kids. I'm the only boy, though." It's half pride and half horror.  
  
S: "That's.... that sure is something." Sans takes what's left of the joint from Bikeaby, if only because he feels bad wasting it. Shit, he is gonna end up a little high.... What must a big family like that be like? Sans tries to imagine six Papyruses. Although... sisters, so six Papyruses with bows on all their heads.  
Sheesh.  
"You the oldest, or what?"  
  
G: Bikeaby laughs a little, shaking his head. He's got a pretty good high going, sis grows some good shit..  
"Nah, middle child. I clocked in at number four, but ma mixes it up all the time. When you get a litter big as ours, you only really remember who was first and who was last."  
  
S: Litter...? Oh, that would. Make sense.  
Sans kind of envies him, honestly. Growing up, with a big family line, and not just- popping up, fully formed. At least Papyrus is getting a childhood, although Sans supposes that makes Papyrus an anomaly compared to himself and Gaster.  
"I'm gonna make coffee." Sans is kind of lightheaded, he's higher than expected..... "And a fuckin sandwich."  
  
G: "Good luck, the doc only keeps weird shit in the fridge." Nudibranch kebabs, who even? "I keep a stash of crap in the biggest drawer of Jawbone's desk."  
  
S: "Oh man. You're a genius, truly underrated." Actually, Bikeaby _is_ really smart. It's just he's sort of... always slacking. Sans kind of understands. "I'm gonna eat like five sandwiches."  
  
G: "Just save the Twinkies for me." They're hell to come by. Bikeaby flicks the tiny bit left of the roach down towards the core. Who knows where it ends up.  
  
S: "Yeah, yeah, you can have those."  
Sans stays quiet when he tiptoes through the lab, careful not to wake Jawbone and Kenny. There's no telling where Gaster is- he could still be awake for all Sans knows. He puts on a pot of coffee, squinting into the light (god, is it always that bright???) and starts raiding Jawbone's drawer for junk food.  
  
G: It's another hour before Gaster comes down. He looks as if he hasn't slept, though that doesn't mean he seems tired. Kenny prepares him a cup of coffee with just a half-spoon of sugar and no cream. That's how he likes it best for when there's a long day ahead. "Good, I will not have to call anyone in. An extra step taken out means we have more time to work."  
  
S: Sans has his hood up to block out the light- (is he really still high? shit, Bikeaby) but he's on his third cup of coffee and that's helping. Jawbone rolls an eye at him, but he ignores it. He's not achy anymore from sleeping hunched over the counter, at least. Did Gaster sleep at all? Sans doubts it.  
"I thought I was onto something last night," Jawbone says through a big yawn (for a big monster) "but I need to re-find my place. I noticed a specific spike in certain factors around the anomalies, though."  
  
G: "Show me, show me." Gaster's expression doesn't really change, but something in his voice belays excitement. "Kenny, my board please."  
The little monster scampers from the room for a moment and returns with a big, green chalkboard on wheels. Bikeaby helps them settle it in the room and flips to the clean side. Well, both sides are covered in chalk... The side with less on it.  
  
S: Jawbone gestures to some papers and Sans hands them to him without incident. Sweet. Doin' good so far. He flips through until Jawbone can find the right place and starts reading things out.  
"See here- it's essentially a physical quality. At least as much as magic is, anyways. You can see the blood levels around the time of the reset, in each of them- I didn't notice it on the first one, because we were looking specifically at the resets. But it lined up....'  
Sans starts highlighting. Holy shit, this highlighter is so blue.... Wait, focus.  
  
G: Gaster stands close and peers over Sans' shoulder and Jawbone's... well, head. "These are all reading from different areas. Different sources, how is their any correlation?"  
"The graphs are so similar, though." Bikeaby has to lift Kenny up onto the table, but they trace along the marks Sans leaves with the highlighter.  
  
S: "They're all different qualities -" Jawbone picks up a highlighter with his teeth and talks around it- "- but they're all present in the same amounts, the same behavior. There's no way it's a coincidence."  
"Actually, if you look-" Sans points at a different chart, one from somewhere not around a reset- "they're each the individual most present quality in each soul set. The highest reading, and they only spike every reset."  
  
G: "And yet they are not exclusive to each individual human."  
"No, it looks like they all have the same qualities. It's just measures of each of them."  
  
S: "So it's not... a specific factor." Jawbone drops the highlighter on the tabletop to pace around, tiles whirring after him. "Or it is?"  
"It's more like... whichever of these is the driving factor."  
"What drives them."  
"The push to reset?"  
  
G: Bikeaby nudges Sans with his elbow and leans down to whisper privately to him, "dude, be cool. "  
If nothing else, it doesn't seem as if Gaster has noticed. "That makes this a good bit harder, I'd say. Wonderful. " The way he says it doesn't make it seem like it's wonderful at all..  
  
S: Sans is being cool, he's being so cool, no one can tell he's high, right?  
Well. Gaster can't, probably.  
"It's harder, but." Jawbone's brow furrows. He looks like he's about to gnaw on the table again. "But it's also interesting. Like, is this just an essential component of being human? Or is there a physical way to isolate that push?"  
  
G: "And what's more, can we use it?" Kenny doodles on the back of their hand with one of the highlighters, idly scribbling while they think. "Discovery is fun and exciting, but if we can't use it for anything, it doesn't really matter."  
"That is awfully defeatist coming from you, Kenny."  
They flush and cap the marker again. "Sorry, I'm just. Thinkin' out loud."  
  
S: "There's gotta be a way." Sans sounds dreamy even to himself. "I mean, surely. Humans' bodies are different, but we've got magic, and we can absorb their Souls. And the- all that-" He gestures vaguely- "it's in the Soul, not the body. Else we wouldn't be able to pick it up."  
  
G: "Yes, but there's-" Kenny looks up from the graphs, and their face scrunches at Sans. "Wait, are you.. Sans, are you high? Bikeaby."  
"Why does everyone always assume I'm the weedman? It's legal, he went to college."  
"You're high too, aren't you??"  
"Oh. My god. I cannot believe these personal attacks on my character, you should be ashamed of yourself."  
  
S: "I'm not high. I'm- very not high. I'm the least high." Sans is really bad at this. Now he feels like Gaster is going to scrutinize him, or- be disappointed, oh no- "I can still work," he adds in a hurry.  
Jawbone does gnaw on the table, a little bit. "Goddammit, Bikeaby."  
  
G: "Hey, I'm high all the time, and no one notices." Bikeaby huffs, crosses his arms, and leans against the table. "Not my fault kid can't handle his shit."  
Gaster sighs and massages his nasal bone. "Bikeaby, you are not at all subtle, we can always tell when you have been smoking."  
"God dammit..."  
  
S: "We just tolerate you being high. Quit being a bad influence on the kid, though."  
"I'm an adult." Sans frowns at Jawbone.  
"Kid."  
" _The point is_ , we have work to do." Sans very decisively stacks some charts. "I can work on it, I'm. Good." So good. So hungry.  
  
G: Gaster hums and nods. "What are the odds? Sans has the most sense right now."  
"I've been working this whole time.."  
"Sans and Kenny, my apologies."  
  
S: "Right. So you owe me a cheeseburger." Sans folds out a bunch of charts across the tabletop and runs his hands over them. "Actually, two cheeseburgers. Actually..."  
"Sans, shut up and work."  
".....yeah, okay."  
  
G: Excellent. Now they can get down to work. Gaster takes a sample of charts and begins writing figures in white chalk on his board. The scratch of it is dull and rhythmic, almost background music.  
"We are looking to compare everything, every little variable, no matter how mundane. More stringently than we have already. This is the grunt work, I know you all hate it."  
"But after the grunt work comes the fun."  
  
S: And thus begins the grunt work.  
Sans doesn't actually do a bad job, aside from the time dilation. (He's sure, for a while, that he's been working a solid three hours. It turns out to be 45 minutes.) He's coming down by the time he starts comparing charts with Jawbone, though, and further on he's just nauseous and tired.  
"Every little detail, there's..... so much."  
  
G: "We are talking about entire lives, here. Can you imagine our own being reduced to numbers and graphs? Little more than ones and zeros?" Gaster is still in it, still gunning strong. The tedious work is never much of an issue for him, it's stagnation that wears him down. "I should hope we would leave so much."  
  
S: "Bikeaby's graph would just be shaped like a big fucking joint." Sans lays his head on his pillowed arms. He's so nauseous. He sees numbers when he closes his eyes.  
"And yours would be a big bone-r, Sans. Don't conk out on us now." Jawbone highlights another section. "I have more data you need to enter."  
"Enter it yourself."  
"Let me just type it with my face."  
"No need to be so _headstrong_ , Jawbone."  
"I'm gonna kill you."  
"Come on, keep a cool _head_ ."  
  
G: Gaster feels as if he should be chastising both of them, but he winds up laughing behind a hand instead. Bikeaby scoffs at him for it, but he isn't entirely a stick in the mud.  
"You and your puns are gonna wind up killing me.." Kenny seems to be nursing a headache as well, but they are at least helping it with a glass of water.  
  
S: "I'm not even going to get mad at you, because that's what you want."  
"You're very _level headed_ for that."  
Jawbone spits a highlighter at Sans at high velocity. It hits him in the forehead.  
"Ow, fuck!"  
"Type my data or the next one is aimed for your eye socket."  
"Alright, shit. Don't..... _lose your head_ …"  
  
G: "Watch your language," Gaster chides, but it's half-buried in another laugh.  
Bikeaby nudges him a little with an elbow, "Hey, you shouldn't be encouraging such behavior."  
"I just told him to watch his language."  
"Yeah, but you're laughin', too."  
"Bikeaby, did you know that laughter can be a panic response."  
"Oh, god, you hear that?" Bikeaby points accusingly at Sans. "Your jokes are so bad, they're freaking the doc out. You've really gone too far this time."  
  
S: "So he doesn't actually find them humerus . Damn, now I feel like a bonehead."  
"At least type while you're making bad puns!"  
"Yeah, yeah." But Sans actually does start entering data. He's also maybe feeling a little happier knowing he can make Gaster laugh, at least.  
  
G: _Humerus_ , oh my god.. Gaster clamps his teeth tight to keep from chuckling at that one, he knows Bikeaby is already giving him an accusatory look for it. "Yes, getting back to work would be best." He goes back to writing out things on his chalkboard, eventually drawing a diagram for a new attachment for the chronoscope. That takes all of his attention, even if _humerus_ still flashes into his thoughts every now and again.  
  
S: Jawbone starts on writing out some code to mess with the program they're using to compare data while Sans continues manually entering all of it. Categorizing every aspect of an entire human life is a lot of data. His knucklebones ache from repetitive motion. Still, he feels. Better. Good thing skeletons can't flush. And he's always grinning, there's no change there. He can zone out while he types, though, and he starts studying the diagram Gaster is drawing up.  
"What's that gonna be, Doc?"  
  
G: "Good question." Gaster doesn't pause, however, he simply fills up another empty space with notes and figures. His thought process is scattered and focused at the same time somehow, each runaway thought exactly related to the task at hand.  
"Here, doctor, before you run out." Kenny offers up another piece of chalk, and Gaster takes it with muttered thanks. "Though. I think we're all curious what you're drawing out."  
He hums and shakes his head, using the cuff of his sleeve to wipe out an incorrect number. "There is power contained within the souls. If we can find a way to extract it, there is no telling what we can accomplish."  
  
S: They all get kind of rapt, watching Gaster at work like this. He seems like a monster possessed, like this, swept up in genius. Sans feels his data entry slow and eventually stop as he watches, and has to remind himself to keep working.  
Jawbone is the first to break the reverie. "It's entirely possible we could use it as a physical quality. As tangible as magic."  
"Kinda horrifying."  
"Kinda amazing, you mean."  
"Awful, in its original context. Striking with awe."  
"We're scientists, Sans, not linguists."  
"Oh, come on. We all read sci-fi."  
  
G: Well, that's true, at least.. They've even spotted Gaster with his nasal bone buried in a book occasionally. When he isn't madly working, that is..  
"We are, essentially, living a bit of science fiction. The first to explore the unknown, right here and right now."  
"And it's dangerous as shit, ain't it?" Bikeaby hangs back and watches the doctor sketch out more, his tongue darting out to seal up a new joint.  
  
S: "All sci fi is, right? That's where the conflict comes in." Sans balances a pen between two of the bones in his hand. Like a Wolverine claw.....  
"A lot of those stories are about punishing mankind for its hubris, daring to play God."  
"Let's hope we're not going to be a cautionary tale, I guess."  
"We're saving monsterkind." Jawbone passes over a new sheet with figures on it.  
Sans continues typing away, watching the pen wiggle in his hand. "Yeah, by playing God. I read Frankenstein too, guys."  
"Okay, well, Frankenstein is HUMAN literature, of course they're going to write about how an intelligent non-human horrifies a poor tormented scientist. We're more like if the monster was also the scientist."  
"I mean, he kind of was, he was extremely intelligent, but things still went badly for-"  
"Sans, shut up."  
  
G: "Intelligence is knowing Frankenstein was not the monster." Bikeaby sparks up in the middle of the lab, who fuckin cares, life is temporary.  
"Wisdom is realizing Frankenstein was the monster."  
"Holy shit, doc, you are blowin' my mind right now.."  
"Take it outside, Bikeaby." Gaster snaps his fingers and points to the door, and Bikeaby heads out with a heavy sigh. "In any case, humanity has a terribly constrictive idea of what a monster even is, so I would not base much of anything on their literature. No wonder they started the war if that is what they choose to believe."  
  
S: "Humans have a hard enough time not killing other types of humans that look slightly different from themselves. Did you know that? They have wars with _other humans._ " Jawbone talks around a pen as he scribbles down more code.  
"Really?" Sans admits he tries not to watch too much human film and TV. Sometimes it kind of scares Papyrus. A lot of it has monsters getting killed by the Victorious Humans....  
"Yeah. It kinda makes me feel like- you know. The destruction of humanity's been a long time coming."  
"So sayeth the king, too."  
  
G: Gaster hums in consideration and steps back from his chalkboard to take in the entire thing. "The king has a soft heart. He won't cause an extinction, not if he can possibly avoid it."  
  
S: "Maybe we'll just seal them up underground for a long time."  
"I kind of feel like the whole 'eye for an eye' thing would probably just lead to- you know- them coming up from underground and wiping us out, like we talk about doing with them. And having an easier time of it." Sans doesn't really like talking about the war. "All we really want is to get out, right? The rest- we'll find a way." They're not designing weapons. They're designing an escape plan.  
  
G: They can vaguely hear Bikeaby humming to himself outside the door, of course he didn't take it outside.. Gaster doesn't even seem to notice. "What's a mob to a king."  
"The doc gets it!"  
"You are going to have to go further out than that if you want to avoid cleaning the entire lab."  
"Aww, shit.." The only thing after that are the soft footsteps of him walking away.  
  
S: Sans is surprised he doesn't wheel away on his stupid shoes, honestly. "Don't tell me you actually listen to music , Doc." He thinks he recognizes that one. "And not just..... classical."  
  
G: "There are more important things to focus on, are there not?" Honestly, only classical? He isn't a mad scientist.  
  
S: "We can work and talk at the same time." Sans deletes a row of data where he accidentally typed 'doc' instead of 'ATK', quickly covering that up. "Or maybe you can put on some music, really get us focused."  
  
G: "If I give any of you an inch, you will take over my lab."  
Gaster isn't necessarily wrong..  
  
S: "Will not."  
"We absolutely will." Jawbone is honest, at least.  
Well..... "What about just the radio, then?"  
  
G: The doctor sighs, his pupils rolling upwards before falling onto Jawbone. "Do what you will, just so long as we can get back to work. If you please?" His irritation isn't nearly as strong as it could be, and Gaster goes back to his chalkboard.  
  
S: Jawbone is quiet when he murmurs to Sans. Probably, hopefully, out of Gaster's hearing range with him so focused on work.  
"Wow, that was the mildest scolding I've experienced in a while. You are teacher's pet."  
"Shut up." Sans turns on the radio to drown him out.  
  
G: Bikeaby returns not long after, high as a kite but much more willing to work now. The more he works, the faster he can get to cheeseburgers, after all. Gaster is absorbed just as he always is, making modifications in his formulas as he catches onto new information the team is feeding him. And the radio really does brighten up the atmosphere, as much as he is loathe to say it.  
  
S: It's easy to lose time like that, and not because of whatever high is still lingering in his system. They're all amicable again, brighter, Sans occasionally catches Jawbone singing along under his breath. Sans'll tap his fingers, too, and they'll all tell Gaster what they've got figured out as things go.  
  
G: It's late when Gaster finally decides it's alright to settle down for the night. Rest is good, he has to remind himself, an idea he was only recently reacquainted with. Sleep does the body good, after all. Even if he doesn't feel like sleeping while there's still so much to do..  
Kenny, usually the first to arrive and the first out the door (the little monster gets so sleepy), lingers later than Jawbone and Bikeaby. "Hey, Sans, didn't you. Say you needed to talk to me yesterday?"  
  
S: Sans yawns. He's starving, and still nauseous and lightheaded, but he hasn't rushed out the door simply because he needed to finish up what he was in the middle of. Kenny startles him out of his data entry trance and he yawns before he talks to them.  
"I- uh, yeah, I guess I did, before- you know, everything happened." Yesterday was a big day. "It's mostly.... well, it's nothing that can't be discussed over burgers. Wanna go to Grillby's?"  
  
G: "Oh.. Where?" Kenny has never been to Snowdin. All they know about it is that it's small and cold, sometimes gets over two feet of snow. Not very good for such a small monster. "Sure, wherever you like. Or if you'd rather not.."  
  
S: "Nah, come with, you'll love it." Sans shrugs out of his lab coat, into his hoodie and offers them a hand up. "Snowdin's cold. If you don't mind the ride, you could hang out in here." He indicates his hoodie.  
  
G: Sans is a pretty good kid, and Kenny immediately regrets being.. weirdly jealous of him. They take the offer and hop up into his hood, their little hands wrapped around Sans' neck bones. "Just don't let me keep you up all night. I heard you have a little brother, he's gonna miss you more than I need a cheeseburger."  
  
S: "Nah, I need a cheeseburger more than anything right now, I've been daydreaming about it all day." Sans even kind of tidies up his work station before he leaves, if by 'tidying up' one means 'kind of puts papers in a stack'. He takes Kenny out the long way, to the River person, and yawns when the boat starts rocking on the way. "Who told you about my brother?"  
  
G: "Bikeaby. He didn't know you had family, either, before today. So I guess now all of us know." Kenny barely leans their forehead against the back of Sans' skull, tuckered out from a long day.  
  
S: Kenny's a really nice monster, and Sans feels kind of bad of thinking of them as a rival for whatever reason. He laughs, tries not to jostle too much so that they don't get knocked around. "I kinda figured Bikeaby would tell everyone.... Not that my brother is a secret, or anything, just." Sans shrugs a bit. "I try to keep my home life separate."  
  
G: The motions of the boat are very calming, lulling, and Kenny nearly dozes off. They shakes themselves awake a little and pat at their cheeks with a hand. "That's probably a good idea. Hotland isn't a good place for family."  
  
S: "Pap's got school in Snowdin, friends. And- well. Snowdin kinda raised us both. I wouldn't relocate him, not if I have a choice. I don't mind travelling to work." Even if he doesn't always make it home. He tips the river person and stretches when he makes it back to land.  
  
G: Kenny shivers a little and nestles further down into Sans' hood. The cold is bad for them, they can't stand a lot of it. In all honesty, they don't mind Hotland as much as the other lab assistants. "Bikeaby told me you brought him here, too. Is this your favorite spot? Grillby's?"  
  
S: "Yeah, I've been coming here forever. Place is great." Sans pulls his jacket a little closer. He doesn't really.... put off a lot of body heat, being a skeleton, but there's at least enough stored in his jacket to keep them sheltered. The trip to Grillby's is quick, though, and once he steps inside it's warm and Grillby is crackling quietly, like he always is. Sans waves before taking a seat. "You and Bikeaby talk a lot, huh?"  
  
G: "We, uh.." Man, that's complicated. "Bikeaby and I are.. friends? I don't know how to classify whatever it is. But he invited me over to his place to smoke, so." Kenny shrugs and lifts their head to look around the restaurant. It's pretty nice inside, actually. Homey. "Bikeaby's kind of.. the only person I talk to outside of work. And that's only because I work with him."  
  
S: "Ah." Sans waves at Grillby. "Two burgers, and - want some fries, Ken?- two fries." Anything they don't eat he can bring home... "Bikeaby is. He's really pretty alright. I guess we have more in common than I think, sometimes, he's a dick, but- I kind of get his attitude."  
  
G: "No kidding." They're kind of alike, Kenny has noticed. Makes them wonder why Gaster likes Sans so much, but that train of thought is petty and beneath them. "But I know if he wasn't around complaining all the time, the doctor would probably work us all into the dustbin." Kenny carefully climbs out of Sans' hood and clambers down onto the bar stool next to them. They can just set their chin on the bartop..  
  
S: Sans laughs to himself as Kenny rest their chin on the bar. Probably the smallest customer Grillby has had.... He rests his jaw in his hand while he studies the bottles behind the bar. Maybe he'll have a drink....  
"Gaster would work us.... He already expects a lot, but something about him makes you. Wanna do it, you know? Just work your fingers to the bone."  
  
G: Kenny tries very hard not to get dreamy with it, but they are already so tired.  
"He's incredible. All the things he's done, all the things he wants to do." The flame sprite flickers back into Kenny's vision and brings their orders to them. Oh, this looks tasty.. even if the burger is as big as their own head. "Gaster's going to wind up saving all of us, I can see it."  
  
S: Sans digs into his burger with all the enthusiasm left in his tired bones. Grillby never disappoints. So, so good.  
"Yeah. if anyone can- if there's anyone I believe in." Sans goes a little quiet and dumps too much ketchup on his fries. "That's kinda- the thing I had wanted to.... Iunno. Maybe forget it."  
  
G: "I was really chilly with you yesterday morning, I know." Kenny is a little intimidated by the size of the burger, so they start with the fries instead. They're, like... perfect. Don't even need ketchup or anything, they have no clue why Sans is drowning his in it. "Sorry about that, it. Wasn't a good weekend, and I think I was. A little. Jealous. That you got to skip out on it."  
  
S: "I probably shoulda been in." But Sans thinks about how happy Pap was this weekend.... "I just want everything to be cool between us. You're a cool monster. And- y'know. A brilliant scientist. And just.... I don't know." Sans shoves another bite of burger in his mouth.  
  
G: Kenny's mouth opens and closes a couple of times before they wave a little hand. "Um.. Excuse me, sir? Could I, maybe, ask for a little help with this burger..?" Being such a small monster, they usually aren't shy about asking for asssistance when they need it. But the flame sprite behind the bar is a handsome one...  
Kenny may have a problem.  
In any case, he obliges Kenny and cuts the burger into smaller quarters. "Thank you.." They finally get the chance to try it... Oh, he can really cook, can't he? Jeeze.. "You know, you're just polite enough to not call me out on it."  
  
S: "Me? Polite?" Sans tries to laugh it off, but he's busy shoving fries in his face around his embarrassment. "I dunno, I just. I'm the newcomer on the team. I don't wanna cause problems. I'm some.... kid, coming in and." And developing a stupid crush on his mentor.  
  
G: "I mean... I don't think I've ever seen Gaster _have_ a favorite." Kenny actually sounds a little more impressed than disappointed. "I didn't think he actually, you know. Liked people." They laugh a little, the good food putting them in a better mood than they probably should be in considering the subject matter. "But he likes you."  
  
S: Don't say things like that, Sans will dare to hope. "It's just. I doubt it's personal. He's said before he's just looking out for the interest of the only other skeletons." Except he does laugh at Sans' jokes. And hang out with him.... He shakes his head. Talking about this with Kenny is surprisingly easy, he expected them to hate him for it. "I mean, but we both know saving monsterkind is priority #1."  
  
G: "Of course. The furthering of his research is always going to be first priority for the doctor, that's just how he is." Even Kenny had no illusions about that, and they're in deep. "I've never actually thought I would get anywhere with him, anyway."  
  
S: "Really? Not at all? I mean, me too I guess... of course, he'd never." Sans doesn't quite feel so at peace with it. But then, he's also...never really been one to do more than crush and suffer in silence without doing anything, so what does he know? "I'm kinda dumb about this."  
  
G: Kenny sighs dreamily. They accepted their defeat long ago; that doesn't mean the flame has died out, though. "It's the doctor. He makes monsters like this.."  
  
S: "Must be." Bikeaby and Jawbone just apparently managed to dodge it. "S' the whole tall, dark and genius thing." Also, he appreciates bad jokes. Sans always gets a little dreamy at people who appreciate bad jokes.  
  
G: " Yeah. " Jeeze, Kenny needs to get ahold of themself. Honestly, they're dealing with this a lot better than they thought they were going to.. Must be the food. "Just. Don't let it interfere with progress. Whatever it is you have with the doctor."  
  
S: "It's not- it's not a thing going on. " Sans doesn't know why he needs to clarify that so badly. "But. Yeah, you're right Kenny. Thanks. I gotta keep my head in the game, on the work we're doing."  
  
G: "Or else Gaster will have it."  
  
S: "Yeah." He thinks of his 'head' puns from earlier and snickers to himself. "Thanks, Kenny. You want me to stick around to take you back to Hotland when you're done, or you got it?"  
  
G: They shake their head and take another section of their burger. "I can make it back on my own. Bright and early tomorrow, right?"  
  
S: "Bright and early." Sans needs to set, like, ten alarms. "Goodnight, Kenny. G'night, Grillby."  
  
G: "Goodnight, Sans."  
Grillby just adds another charge to his tab. It's getting extensive.  
  
S: Sans kicks off his shoes and socks in the living room and checks the clock to see how late it is. Pap could still be up talking to his new pets.... Sans peeks in to see if he is. "You up, bro?"  
  
G: Papyrus has his head pillowed on his arms, the only light coming from the aquarium. He'll hurt his eyes this way, but he's about to go to bed, anyway. "Hey, brother." He sounds tired, maybe even a little drained. Long day.  
  
S: "You doin okay, Pap?" Normally he's a lot more enthusiastic, even tired.... Sans hovers in the doorway, mostly blocking the light from the hall. He realizes how tired he is himself, how little sleep he'll probably get tonight....  
  
G: Papyrus chatters his teeth a few times before lifting his head up.  
"The great Papyrus is facing his first great moral dilemma."  
  
S: Uh oh. Sans pads inside to plop down in Papyrus's computer desk chair, spinning around a little. The hall door is cracked just enough to see, and the aquarium light makes everything blue and hazy. "What moral dilemma is that?"  
  
G: His fingers tap on the edge of the desk while he thinks.  
"I, Papyrus, am always willing to do what I must to help a friend in need. And my friends say they need to go home.." He thought this could be their new home, but. Well, you can't be right all the time. "But if I release them, I will never see them again.."  
  
S: Oh, Pap. Sans spins around in his chair a little, feet dragging on the edge of Papyrus's rug. The little guys made Papyrus so happy, too, more excited than Sans had seen Papyrus in a while- which, considering his brother's enthusiasm, says a lot.  
"What does your heart say, bro?"  
  
G: "That's the problem, my heart is saying two different things!" Papyrus pulls his nightcap down over his eyes and huffs. "And I know you spent a lot of money on the aquarium, too, so I don't know what to do about that, either."  
  
S: "Hey, don't worry about the money." That, Sans at least can reassure him about. "The money's no big deal. I just- well, don't tell anyone, but I'm gonna be getting more pay, soon. And benefits. Like- vacation days and stuff. So money's not a problem." He gives another lazy half-turn in his chair. Papyrus is just. Such a good kid. "Sometimes, what makes someone else happy is the opposite of what makes you happy. And you have to- y'know. You have to make a sacrifice to make them happy." It sounds sagely. Movies and TV have told him that plenty. It's the kind of thing a good, idealistic kid needs to hear. It's a shame Sans feels guilty when he says it.  
  
G: Papyrus stays in his dark nightcap land for a little while longer before puhing it back up. He thumps the dangly ball a couple times before talking.  
"Will you come with me in the morning to let them go?"  
  
S: After promising Kenny he'd be in early, too.... Well, surely everyone will understand. He can wake up really early, before Pap is set to go to school, and should still make it in before school.  
"Yeah, bro. We'll go together. We'll find a really good place in Waterfall, too." Sans rubs the heel of his hand over his eye socket. He's tired, already. "It's very brave and noble of you to send your new friends home, Great Papyrus."  
  
G: Papyrus looks between his brother and the tank a few times before hopping into bed and curling up under the blankets.  
"Having happy friends is better than having homesick ones. Even if you don't get to see them anymore."  
  
S: "Yeah." Sans still lingers a minute before shuffling over to Papyrus's bed and ruffling the nightcap on his head. "And, hey. Maybe we'll go visit Waterfall sometimes and see if they're still around and want to catch up."  
  
G: "Yeah?"  
The nudibranches in the tank wiggle around, supposedly in excitement, and Papyrus seems to feel a little better.  
"Okay.. If you guys promise, then I'll come visit!"  
  
S: "See, you don't have to say bye forever." Sans adjusts Pap's nightcap so it's sitting right. "A lot of goodbyes are like that. They're more 'see ya later''s."  
  
G: The nudibranches try to contribute, but they can only manage 'auf' with how few of them there are.  
"Okay, but you guys have to tell me everything about the sea, okay? And introduce me to your families. And your pets! Do you guys keep pets? Oh, gosh-"  
Papyrus seems much happier now with the entire state of affairs.  
  
S: He'll be alright, now. And Sans is sure he'll wake up in the morning much more happy about the whole affair.  
Which means Sans can go and flop facefirst into bed. Which he does.  
  
G: The parting in the morning is tearful, but Papyrus holds it together fairly well. He hasn't had to deal with leaving friends before, with schoolmates moving away or moving on. And the little wiggles do promise to keep in touch, even if he himself knows how little they comes out to Waterfall. It's alright. There's a snail farm nearby. They're... basically related, right?  
  
S: Sans is honestly dead on his feet, but he thinks he's alright enough emotional support. He's present, anyways. Papyrus does a good job of being brave about it. He's still got a little time before school.... So, Sans isn't late to the lab yet.  
"Wanna go by the snail farm and watch the snails for a bit?"  
  
G: Papyrus has to sniffle for a solid minute, but he eventually turns to Sans and delivers a watery, "Yeah." Watching the snails crawl around is soothing, though, so he winds up watching them for a good while. Weird to think some people eat these little guys.  
  
S: Sans chats for a while with the trio of ghosts that run the farm. Business has apparently been slow, but he supposes with everyone moving, it's like that for most businesses.... He honestly gets caught up in it for a while (one of the ghosts keeps....flirting????.... but they probably do that to everyone) until he checks his phone.  
Shit.  
"Pap- you're late for school, we gotta go buddy." He tries not to rush Papyrus out of his reverie, but he does grab his hand so they can take a shortcut as quickly as possible.  
  
G: Papyrus has never been late before.. Maybe it's fun? "I have to go home and get my backpack!" His homework is in there. He blinks, and Sans apparently finds one of his shortcuts. He wonders, vaguely, if he'ss ever get to learn them. But getting to class rings more important for now, so Papyrus gathers up his things and rushes to class with a slice of toast and his shoes unlaced.  
  
S: "Don't trip, Pap-" Sans calls after him, but he's already out the door. Shit, Sans has to go too. Using two quick trips in such a short amount of time is probably a bad idea.... And Sans is already exhausted... But.  
But he's late.  
So he rushes to the lab the fast way and braces himself on the lab door, lightheaded. "Sorry- my brother was...."  
  
G: Kenny looks a little hungover, and that is likely the only reason they seem irritated. "This is a little later than bright an-.. Whoa, what? Sans?" They hop down from their stool and run over to him, and even Gaster lifts his head to wonder what the fuss is. "Hey, are you alright? Come sit down, jeeze."  
  
S: "Nah, nah, I'm." Sans is really woozy but he shakes it off. "I'm good, heh." His browbone feels damp with sweat. Change the subject, divert it away. "Hope everyone didn't party too hard last night."  
  
G: "No, come here." Gaster curls a finger at him, standing.  
  
S: Shit, Gaster got up and everything..... Sans has no choice but to comply. His slipers slap against the tile. He should have changed into his real shoes.....  
  
G: Gaster takes one of Sans' wrists and tugs him close. Lack of sleep makes him a bit rougher around the edges now, less willing to tiptoe around whatever issues come up. "Tilt your head back, I have to see." His thumbs go on either side of Sans' eye socket to hold it open.  
  
S: "Uhhhm." He's a little too woozy to properly process this, with Gaster's bony fingers prying at his eye socket. He doesn't really need to blink, but it's hard not to want to with the intrusion. He tips his head back, trying to keep his head cool despite all of- this.  
  
G: "Doc, aren't you gettin' a little intrusive there??"  
There's a flicker in Sans' pupil, whatever remains of the flashing Gaster is sure he saw, but it's too far gone now. Nothing major, then, no real or lasting damage. "Yes. My apologies, then." He lets Sans out of his grip and returns to what he was doing as if nothing at all happened, nearly in the exact same hunch.  
  
S: Sans just kinda. Stands there for a while. Processing. Finally he shuffles over and plops down on a bench next to Bikeaby.  
"Morning, Sans," Jawbone says, sliding a laptop over to him.  
"Um. Morning."  
  
G: Bikeaby kind of has to snap out of it himself, and he leans down close to his laptop. "Jeeze, I can't believe I almost had to witness you two making out with my own eyes." It's very low, more to himself than anything, but Kenny pops him once in the arm for it, nonetheless.  
"The doctor and I both saw something weird going on, he was just checking." Kenny's flush isn't too bad, and they don't seem to be irritated about the weird little scene. For once. "Gaster is a professional."  
  
S: "I'd have brushed my teeth beforehand if that was the plan." Sans suddenly feels stupid as soon as it leaves his mouth. He quickly tries to change the subject. "What did you see? I mean- I'm fine, I feel fine, just a little tired." He quickly starts assembling notes and data for entry.  
"I just saw that you looked like you were gonna pass out. So whatever you did, do less of it."  
"Helpful, Jawbone, thanks."  
  
G: "I don't know, just. Just weird light, I guess. Weird lighting." If the doctor didn't find anything to be concerned about, then Kenny trusted that. "Probably just a reflection of the lab bulbs, you know these things can be funny."  
Bikeaby shrugs and gets back to his own work. Whatever. Who even cares.  
  
S: "Yeah, probably. Nothing. I'll just. Get some coffee and get to work and we can drop it." Sans wobbles up to do just that. Another long day ahead.  
  
G: Long, long. Bikeaby conks out on the lab couch while on a 'smoke break', and Kenny doesn't bother waking him up. It's too late, they're all tired, and Gaster is starting to get the deep black in his sockets that only come from several days without sleep.  
"Doctor?" Gaster doesn't reply so much as hum to show he's listening. "It's past midnight. I think we should start heading home, don't you think?"  
  
S: Sans has been struggling not to pass out for what seems like hours now, and Jawbone seems to possibly be asleep with his eyes open. He looks up at Gaster hopefully. "You could probably use some sleep, too, Doc." although he tries not to sound too pushy with it.  
  
G: "As you like."  
Kenny sighs in relief, and it turns into a yawn halfway through. Now that they're all free to go, they're a lot less worried about keeping it in.  
"Except for you." The doctor points with a curled finger, picking Sans out without looking up. "I need to speak with you."  
  
S: Sans pauses in his tracks, midway through shrugging off his lab coat. Well, shit. He grins warily at the others.  
In all honesty, he's probably in trouble. Doc didn't exactly teach him about circumventing traditional navigation so that he could misuse it. And it's supposed to be a secret.  
He hangs back until everyone is gone. "Doc, about this morning, I'm sorry."  
  
G: The dark hollows under Gaster's eyes are deep, but he looks much more awake than any of the others.  
"What happened this morning?" Something.. What was it?... Well, if he's having trouble remembering it, it must not have been that important. "Nevermind, I do not need to be reminded. No, I have something for you. A. Pet project, perhaps."  
  
S: Oh. That's not what Sans expected. He'll just be more careful about messing with travel, then.  
"A pet project?" He leans on the table edge, studying Gaster. He still seems so intense....and a little frightening. "I'll bite, go on?"  
  
G: "To be honest, this is something I would look into myself. Unfortunately, I am too busy and too.. close to it to work on it reliably." As professional as Gaster tries to be, he does acknowledge that occasionally his emotions do play a role in his behavior. This last time proved that enough.. "Stable enough to count as your graduating thesis I believe, so long as you show your work."  
  
S: That wakes Sans up enough to stand a little straighter, pull his hands out of his pocket. In all honesty, this internship has partially been a way to procrastinate on graduating. He's been undecided on his thesis a full six months, long enough that he occasionally gets frantic emails from professors reminding him he's still going to need to do it if he wants a diploma.  
"You caught my eye with that." He pulls up a stool next to Gaster. "What is it?"  
  
G: Gaster clicks his incisors together a few times and finally shuffles his papers aside, though it's clear he isn't putting them away for the night.  
"Me," he says simply. It takes him a few more seconds to elaborate. "For legitimate things, this is no strange vanity project. I need someone to look into me, and. I like to believe you are a good candidate. "  
  
S: Sans has to take a minute to process it. A project on.... Dr. W.D. Gaster, the royal scientist?  
Admittedly a subject Sans is interested in.  
And something about being earnestly called a good candidate makes it hard to say no.  
"What, uh. Would the research be on?" He should probably at least find his basis for the project before he blindly agrees. "As you said before, making data of a whole life is hard work."  
  
G: "Yes, I certainly did say that.." Gaster threads his fingers together and settles his chin on them. "I don't quite know what is happening to me. Has happened. But something has changed. " Talking about it as personal experience feels different from talking about it as data. Gaster isn't at all sure he likes it. "The king tasked me with neutralizing and collecting human souls that find their way into the underground, but with each soul something goes. Wrong."  
  
S: "Wrong." Sans finds his old coffee cup from a few hours ago and drains the last dregs of it. It only ever seems like Gaster looks this....brittle boned when he's alone, without the rest of the team. Or maybe Sans just notices it then.  
"I'll - I'll take on the project. Can you try to describe to me what has changed, exactly? What I'll.... measure."  
  
G: Gaster's pupils fade for a moment, going from white to a dull grey before popping back wider than before. Introspection, maybe, or dozing. "I can remember, vividly, the fear and pain of the second soul. The first I was tasked to collect." God, he remembers himself as such a fool back then, nearly frightened of his own shadow. Perhaps that very thought is a symptom.. "Now.. Now I can't quite describe what filled me when the call came in for the most recent."  
  
S: Fear and pain. Sans remembers how he felt, going along, hanging back, watching Gaster do it. Gaster hadn't seemed frightened at all.  
"You think each of them is changing you." Monsters are taught magic to protect themselves, yes, but they're also taught that intent to kill is what makes humans so frightening, so dangerous. Monsters are made of compassion, love, magic. A monster going out of their way to kill a human...  
  
G: "Jawbone says that I have become callous." And he believes that is what it looks like from an outside perspective. His pupils have gone dark again, just the black of his sockets staring deeper into the lab. "I feel.. cruelty, waiting for me to slip into it. Like a hot bath."  
  
S: The lab feels cold, and large, and echo-y. There's a dull droning noise, maybe the AC.  
When looking at the human souls, they can read their every stat. How many monsters they killed. It's an unmarked stat, just a number. A little set of data that equals so many monster lives.  
What would it say for Gaster's Soul? How do human lives translate?  
"You're not cruel, though." It's a very unscientific thing to say. "Not yet, I guess, but you. I think you can - are...."  
  
G: "Then look into it." When Gaster turns his head, there are only two pinpricks of light staring at Sans. He is tired and worried. He wonders, perhaps, if he will soon lose the ability to be. "Please."  
  
S: On an impulse, Sans covers Gaster's hand with his. It's meant to be reassuring. Mostly he's frightened. "You got it. Promise." Sans tries to keep promises.  
  
G: Gaster gently pats at one of Sans' shoulders with his free hand, his gaze falling away.  
"Thank you." When he analyzes it, he is satisfied to find the sentiment feels sincere. "Do not let me keep you any longer, Sans. I fear I have bestoyed a monumental task to you, and you are going to need rest when you can get it."  
  
S: "You should rest too." Sans pulls his hand away and stands, stuffing both hands in his pockets. After this morning, he doesn't want to leave Papyrus alone tonight. He'll at least be there in the morning for breakfast.  
And maybe the lab suddenly feels kind of cold and empty.  
"I want to start some tests when I can. And take some time to run a few....well, to talk about the effects, mostly. But I think we both need to be rested before then. And there's this to work on, to. So..... I'll see ya. In the morning."  
  
G: "Goodnight, Sans." Gaster curls into himself, looking rather brittle and rickety. This is a night where he should sleep. He knows he cannot.  
  
S: Sans sleeps on the couch, doesn't even make it upstairs. It feels like he's barely even fallen asleep when he hears the sounds of Papyrus getting up and sees the light from the kitchen streaming into the living room. Uuughh.  
  
G: "Jeeze, lazybones, are the stairs too much of a challenge?" Papyrus has a pot of coffee on for him, though he never touches the stuff.  
  
S: "That coffee smells amazing." He doesn't want to tell Papyrus that yes, the stairs looked far too difficult after everything. Sans yawns and sits up. He probably needs to shower.... "I don't seem different to you these days, do I, Papyrus?"  
  
G: "Aside from the fact you sleep all the time?" That isn't actually true. Papyrus just only really sees Sans when he's home to sleep.. "Nope."  
  
S: "Good....." Sans gets up and starts making himself coffee. If just being around when a human was killed changed him... well, that wouldn't be his field of study. No, he thinks it's something more tangible than that. Gaster may be.... eccentric, but Sans doesn't think cruelty would be something he'd willingly take on. "What about taller?" He grins at Papyrus. "I need to grow some more if I want to stay the big brother."  
  
G: "You're still the same height as you've always been. It's because you don't drink enough milk!" Papyrus starts chugging his own glass, apparently as an example of what Sans should be doing.  
  
S: "I put milk in my coffee." Sans does just that. "Doesn't take a.... dair-y to get me to get my calcium." Okay, that was bad even for him. He's tired, that's his excuse.  
  
G: "Every day you bring me such pain."  
  
S: "It's good character building." Sans chugs his coffee. "I'm gonna shower. Don't be late for school, bucko."  
  
G: Papyrus huffs and gets to washing dishes. And he is definitely NOT late for school today.  
  
S: Sans, on the other hand, is late to the lab. He hadn't made any promises today so whatever. Everyone's there, of course, no matter how tired they all are.  
  
G: There are several days before there's any reprieve. Gaster is not a slave driver, far from it, but he does play rather fast and loose with the sanity and health of his associates. And his own.  
"I can't believe Gaster is fuckin' dead."  
"Will you shut up, the doctor is just asleep." At his notes, no less, the hollows under his eyes very deep and ragged.  
"Well since he slept in, does that mean we get to?"  
  
S: "You guys probably can." Sans is surprisingly alert for day five on less than 6 hours of sleep a night. Gaster's going to need to take the day off, but it could be a good time to start work on that pet project. "I'm gonna.... wake the beast and see if I can't convince him to go to his bed. Sleeping like this's bad for the spine." And hover around the lab preparing things.  
"Got no ulterior motives there, Sans?"  
"Not the ones you're thinking." Sans winks. "The lab's great for practicing b-ball."  
  
G: "Dude, you ain't kiddin about that beast shit. Sure you don't wanna just sneak back out while he's not looking?" Bikeaby already has his heels popped out, ready to leave.  
  
S: "Nah, I'll face the Doctor's Wrath." The way he capitalizes it sounds like a special attack. "I've actually been waiting for a chance to use some of the equipment to test some stuff. For my thesis."  
  
G: Kenny is quiet, though it's unclear if that's from some kind of frustration or just tiredness. They tug at Bikeaby's pants insistently.  
"Finally hopping in that, huh kid? Well, good luck. I'm glad to be outta here even if you aren't."  
  
S: "Lucky you." Sans grins wearily. "I figure I might as well actually graduate. Anyways, I'll see you guys on the flip side. If he calls anyone in tomorrow it'll be a miracle, so- couple of days? Get sleep, for sure. I know I will later."  
  
G: "Whatever, man." Bikeaby rolls out without much else in the way of conversation, Kenny on his heels.  
  
S: Sans waits until everyone is cleared before he shakes Gaster's shoulder. He's braced for Gaster's worst, considering this is probably the first real sleep he's had in a while.  
  
G: Gaster barely stirs, his fingerbones cracking a little tighter before he slips back down into deeper sleep. It's hard to notice how terribly you're bent over when you haven't rested in well over seventy-two hours.  
  
S: Ugh, he's not going to move, is he? Sans mulls it over for a second before deciding he might as well not disturb him. He pauses for a minute to consider what he's about to do before deciding fuck it.  
He tries not to creak any stairs as he tiptoes up to Gaster's quarters; the thing is, he hasn't seen them before, and something could go bad if he tries to go somewhere he hasn't seen. So he's just peeking around, really. Looking at where the bed is before he hurries back down, places a hand on Gaster's shoulder and brings him up the quick way.  
  
G: Being travelled awake is a good deal more shocking than being prodded awake, and Gaster's eyes flash when he snatches hold of Sans' collar. Below the flashing color, there are just black pits straight back into Gaster's skull.  
  
S: _Fuck._  
Sans gets startled off-track, and his skull connects with Gaster's dresser when he fails to stick the landing. Gaster's eyes seem to flash even through the starburst of white pain in Sans' skull; Gaster's fingers seem icy in his collar. "Doc- sorry- I just thought-"  
  
G: It's a long moment of still silence before Gaster half-realizes what's happening. Sans, Sans the skeleton. Must have moved him, why? Bed. Fell asleep in the lab. "S'happening?" He can't get his jaw to work, too tired.  
  
S: Sans runs a hand over his skull. Ow. "You were asleep in the lab. Thought I'd get you up here. Kind of a numbskull move, sorry."  
  
G: "Nnh.." Gaster collapses back down onto his bed and rolls onto his back, groans unhappily when he feels so many vertebrae popping back into place. "How long have I been asleep?"  
  
S: "Two, three hours tops. We tried to work around you but I think everyone needs the day to sleep." Sans looks anywhere but at Gaster. His room is dusty.... "I stayed behind to test some controls for my thesis. You should sleep more. Meant not to wake you."  
  
G: Gaster sighs again and presses his palm to his eyes. "Shouldn't you sleep as well?"  
  
S: "I don't know." Sans runs a knuckle over his jawbone. "I don't feel like going all the way home. I need to get to work on that project."  
  
G: "That project, having mainly to do with me?" Gaster slithers out of his lab coat and tosses it over the side of his bed. He'll clean it and hang it up later, for now he has a hard time mustering the energy to care.  
  
S: "Yeah, well." Sans laughs weakly. Being in Gaster's room feels weird....  
"I was going to run control tests on myself for comparison. Since we're both skeletons I thought. It'd be the easiest to measure."  
  
G: Gaster hums to himself until it trails off to nothing. Dozing, it seems, but his breath catches when he wakes back up. "Would those results not be more reliable if you were rested?"  
  
S: "I. Guess." Sans fidgets. He knows if he goes home and to bed, all bets are off. He'll be out the whole day. "I'll go. Crash on the couch a while, then."  
  
G: "Mnn." That sounds fine to Gaster. He quickly dozes back off, one hand curled close to his face.  
  
S: Sans gets stuck a minute, looking at him. It's hard to remember sometimes he's made of the same stuff as Sans, bone and dust and magic. He always seems so....distant. But when he's worn down like this he's tangible, fragile even. Just weary bones and magic.  
Sans makes himself leave before he gets lost in whatever this stupid feeling is. He crashes out on the lab couch and sleeps way longer than he intended to.  
  
G: Even Gaster only wakes by the grace of god, and he isn't at all happy about it. His head throbs from dehydration, his stomach twists in angry hungry knots. He should have fed himself better. Or maybe he just needs to hire someone to do it for him.  
And have yet another nanny underfoot, no thank you. But it's a thought he has nearly every time he goes long stints down in the lab, it isn't at all new.  
He's halfway through making something to eat and his third glass of water before he even notices Sans passed clean out on the couch.  
  
S: Sans vaguely stirs and cracks one eye open, but he's clearly not awake.  
"S'at." His eye closes and he dozes again.  
  
G: A thrilling conversational partner. Gaster lets Sans sleep while he cooks and only makes a move to wake him in order to bring him a glass of water."You will need this if you are anything like me." He sits at the opposite end of the couch, Sans' feet just barely touching his robe.  
  
S: "Uuuubbbggghhh." Eloquent. Sans creaks up all rattling bones. He's too young to crackle this much when he sits up. But he accepts the water and drinks it too quickly.  
  
G: "Be careful not to choke," Gaster warns, but he is too preoccupied with eating to be very stringent about it. Sans is an adult, after all, he hardly needs someone to hold his hand.  
  
S: Sans splutters a little, but he's good. He drains the glass and blinks blearily at Gaster and the room.  
" ' time is it?  
  
G: Gaster hums around a metal skewer and checks the oven clock, just barely seeable if he cranes his neck.  
"Late. Five thirty in the afternoon."  
  
S: "Shiiiiit." He was supposed to have all his base data by now. Wait, language.  
"Shoo...oo...ot." He scrubs at his eye sockets. "What are you eating?"  
  
G: Gaster offers his plate out. "Sea slug kebabs. Are you hungry? I have never made them before, but they are quite good." And colorful. Gaster takes down enough of a skewer so he can clamp his teeth down, pull, and drag the entire thing into his mouth.  
  
S: Sans shudders. "Nah, I'll....pass on that." He doesn't think he can bear to after Papyrus's little buds.  
"I do have some leftovers I shoved in the fridge, though." He'll have to do that. He shuffles over, shoves his whole takeout box in the microwave, and shuffles back to plop on the couch next to Gaster.  
  
G: "This is the second time you have slept on my couch." It's a simple observation, Gaster doesn't much believe in reading into things when a straightforward answer will do.  
  
S: "Yeah, well." Sans hears the microwave ding and it gives him a precious few moments to figure out an answer. "If I go home, I won't wanna come back and work until I sleep the whole night, and it's comfy enough by now."  
  
G: Gaster hums softly, though it's unclear if it's in response to Sans or if his kebabs are just tasty. "If only Bikeaby had your dedication."  
  
S: "Yeah, well." Sans laughs. "Bikeaby probably also sleeps better than me."  
  
G: "Trouble with sleeping, Sans?"  
  
S: Sans suddenly feels dumb for mentioning it. "I'm a college kid, insomnia's like a pre-requisite, right?"  
  
G: Gaster yawns, and his teeth chatter when they close together again. "Any nightmares?"  
  
S: Sans scrunches into his hoodie. "Uh. Occasionally." Isn't he supposed to be running tests on Gaster, and not vice versa? "It's not really important, I guess."  
  
G: Gaster hums and falls quietly into introspection. It worries his associates sometimes, how he can just get lost staring at the opposite wall. But it's always something he's done. "This couch is awful." Terrible on the pelvis.  
  
S: "Yeah it is." Sans laughs and digs into his over-nuked fries. Needs way more ketchup. "Always stiff after I get off this thing."  
  
G: "Speaking of Bikeaby," Gaster murmurs, though they hadn't really been speaking of anything at all, "Has he, perhaps, said anything to you about our returning to the surface?"  
  
S: Sans collects some stray salt on the tip of his fingerbone. He should be used to the jumps Gaster makes by now, but. "Uh, not really anything in specific . But I get the idea it makes him nervous."  
  
G: "You do not believe he would stall our progress, do you?"  
  
S: Would he? Sans doesn't want to doubt Bikeaby. He doesn't want to doubt anyone. "He may complain, but he works as hard as he can. Bikeaby is anxious, but- he wants to help."  
  
G: No doubt because he fears retribution. Gaster's headache has put him in a sour mood.  
Probably, that's what it is..  
He closes his eyes to block out the light, so bright in the lab, and lets his head thump against the back of the couch. "They were the best candidates."  
  
S: Sans finishes eating, but he leaves the takeout container in his lap. He's not really ready to be up yet.  
"They're all good scientists. I guess they- we , I do it too- slack off sometimes, but."  
  
G: "I am aware." Even if slacking off creates a buzz in Gaster's head that won't leave, that just gets worse as free time grinds on. "You all put up with quite a lot from me, don't you?"  
  
S: Sans picks at the tab that holds the takeout box shut. He shrugs, flippant.  
"I mean. You're- brilliant. I'd have given my left leg to get this spot. You work hard, and- you know. Want to help monsterkind. I think we can all deal with a few late nights."  
  
G: Gaster's laugh is dry and rattling, but it does actually seem to be genuine.  
"Flattery is a gamble, Sans, and you do not seem particularly lucky."  
  
S: Welp, so much for that whole heartfelt confession thing he was going for there. Sans leans back on the couch and lets his eyes slip closed.  
"You got me, I'm a shitty gambler." And a shittier protege. "I look up to you. That's all I'm saying."  
  
G: "Thank you." Sincerity is so hard to find the energy for, nowadays. Serious, Gaster can do, serious is easy. But he's never had an easy time being sincere, and it's getting harder. Isn't Sans supposed to be looking into that?  
  
S: Sans seems to realize it about the same time. He shuffles over to take his takeout container to the trash.  
"I was going to run some basic scans today. Just a Check report on both of us. Maybe a questionnaire, if you feel up to it. Raw data type things."  
  
G: Raw data, Gaster has more energy for that.  
"You are full of good ideas, Sans." He is close to graduating, after all, had the good piece of mind to hop on a damn good internship.  
  
S: Sans ducks his head a little, bashful, and shrugs. "Make no bones about it."  
He starts off by fiddling with one of the prototype chips for the soul canisters. It's not too hard to get it set up to where he can hook himself up to the readout, electrodes on the temporal bones of his skull. He's never really seen his own data before and reads it with interest as it prints out. "Man, 1's pretty much across the board..." Ones or zeroes.  
  
G: "The one HP wonder." Gaster remembers the others saying something about that a few weeks ago. Apparently it's true, and that's a bit worrying, isn't it? "You should be careful."  
  
S: "I go out of my way to avoid combat, trust me." Sans pins up the sheets and looks at them. He's.... pretty unimpressive. "Alright, Dr. Gaster- mind letting me hook you up to this?"  
  
G: Gaster sits in one of the lab chairs and bows his head so Sans might have an easier time of it. He wonders, vaguely, if that Papyrus will stay the same height as he is now. Sans could certainly use a spurt.  
  
S: Sans sticks each electrode to Gaster's skull, doesn't even fumble with them too bad. The reading is very slow to print on the dot matrix printer, so Sans hovers around highlighting points on his own in the meantime. "I don't suppose you have any old personal data logged anywhere? Stats, anything?" Sans is.... exceptionally low in those departments, there's no telling if Gaster was ever like that.  
  
G: "I am afraid I have never found myself particularly interesting. Until recently, at least." The electrodes spark to life, tingling a little.  
  
S: "Damn." Sans laughs and highlights another point. "I mostly wanted to know if you were ever as..... well, as weak as me." Gaster's strong now, the strongest. Sans thinks about his battle against the human.  
  
G: "Do not call yourself weak." He still sounds a little tired. It takes a long time to recharge after so many days of work.  
  
S: Gaster's gonna get him flustered. "On paper, I mean." He picks up the end of the printout that is already out. Already what readings he's got from Gaster are staggeringly impressive. "You must've really kept to your calcium." He lifts one brow, grins stupid. Ugh....  
  
G: Gaster takes the charts himself, humming as he studies them. Those are high readings.. incredibly high. He doesn't have much of a clue what that means for the situation at large. "I barely eat, though I do try to eat well when I do."  
  
S: Sans feels like he could nag Gaster about feeding himself better, but he doesn't. He does grin a little more gently though.  
"Least you're eating well. Eating more can come later, I guess, but it- you know- goes right through us." He hears the printer finish up, carefully pops the electrodes off Gaster's skull. "Let's look at what we've got, huh?"  
  
G: "Yes, thank you." He still has darkness under his eyes, but it isn't nearly as bad as it was. Gaster peers down over Sans' head, scanning along the spiking graph. "And what do you make of it, doctor?"  
  
S: Doctor . It makes Sans chuckle giddily. "Well, highlighting the differences between you and me I might as well highlight the whole graph. But, uh." He pokes at a few things. "I notice these here- the stuff tied to your magic, it's all pretty high. Have you always been that good at magic?"  
  
G: Gaster murmurs wordlessly to himself a few seconds before responding. "I have added a few augmentations." For the better. Though his natural magics have gotten much stronger.  
  
S: "Augmentations." Sans is curious, but he doesn't press. "I guess I'd better look in another area, then, and find out if there's any other significant stats I can track." He shuffles, pulls his foot out of one slipper and then slides it back in. "We've got the base readings, at least. I could try- I have a sort of questionnaire, but it's..... It's not my specialty."  
  
G: "Neither is talking about myself." Gaster does manage to smile a little, though it's faint. "So we shall both be unspecialized, at least."  
  
S: Sans grins at him, sheepish. "Yeah, alright. I'll get it, then. It's pretty rough, so.... bear with me." He finds his notes, sloppily scrawled. There's a doodle on the corner... He realizes these are on the back of some of Papyrus's old homework. He hopes it's old, anyways, and that Papyrus didn't need to turn it in today....  
"Okay. First question: on a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being 'strongly agree' and 5 being 'strongly disagree', how would you rate this phrase: 'I feel as though I am different than before I killed my first human.'" God, that sounds so clinical.....  
  
G: "Different how?" Gaster backs up from that and threads his fingers together. "Actually, it does not much matter. One would be the answer to most things."  
  
S: "Let's, um." Sans digs through a pile of mess until he finds what he was looking for, a little voice recorder that he sets down between them as he plops into a spinning chair. "Let's maybe dig into that? What all do you strongly feel is different?"  
  
G: Gaster eyes the little recorder warily, but he tajes a deep breath to dive into it, anyway. "It is hard to tell, exactly. The changes feel more gradual than I am think they must have been.." And there were quite a few long stretches of time between one human and another. Most of the time, people simply change over time. "I am not sure I an the same monster I used to be. Which is ridiculous thing to say, I suppose, no one stays the same forever."  
  
S: "No, no one does, but." Sans half-swivels in the chair, the toes of his slippers dragging the floor. "What changes stand out most to you? Is there anything that seems particularly far from the monster you believed yourself to be at the start of all this?"  
  
G: The doctor is quiet, but whether it's because he's gathering his thoughts or because he's hesitant to say, it isn't clear. "I find myself.. unempathetic at times. Jawbone posited that I am not directionally cruel, I am simply. Unworried with the state I put others in. I know this has changed, and it is what worries me the most."  
  
S: "Did you used to care a lot? Before?" This isn't exactly a scientific query. Sans is just curious to imagine Gaster younger. Softer. More caring.  
  
G: "As much as any other monster, at least." Certainly more than he does now. _How inconvenient.  
_  
S: "Alright." Sans realizes he's gotten sort of off-track. "On a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being 'very gradual' and 5 being 'very sudden', how quick would you say each change has onset after each.... collection?"  
  
G: It takes Gaster a long time to answer that one because he has to think in it for a long time. "After the first, I was angry all the time. I used to never get angry. I cannot say it was a change for certain. More a. Response."  
  
S: Sans makes a note, somewhere. He also doodles a hot dog. Mostly to keep himself from getting lost thinking about it. "How did you feel after the second one?"  
  
G: "Resigned." That response is much faster. "And eventually, excited. Humans meant progress."  
  
S: "Did you find your emotional reactions to other monsters changing each time? Or your relationships changing?" Sans wants to. He doesn't know. He has this strange ache to undo it, take it all back. Make Gaster his old self again, which is dumb because he doesn't even know what Gaster's 'old self' was like.  
  
G: Gaster doesn't often think of himself in relation to other monsters. He has always been withdrawn, a bit of a loner. Not many others knew him before he became royal scientist, and after.. Aside from the few interns he's taken on and dismissed and the king's string if nannies, he is and has always been alone.  
"No. I have never sought out company, and I still don't. Most of the time, other monsters feel like a nuisance. Though I cannot remember if that is a change or something I have always felt."  
  
S: Sans notes that, too, and gets lost for a second wondering where he falls in relation to that. Annoyance? Exception?  
"What about things like- battle strength? Durability? Any change there?"

  
G: "The second human nearly killed me." Now, he feels how strong he is when he goes into combat. A remarkable change. "Whether that is due to inexperience or.. something else, I cannot be sure."  
  
S: "There's something I've...been observing in the humans." Sans is hesitant to launch into theories, but. "An observable increase in strength based on how many monsters they killed. If it's genuine...." He trails off. "It could be a coincidence. Monsters and humans are very different."  
  
G: "How often do we run across coincidences in our particular branch of science?"  
  
S: "Very seldom." Sans grins then, at Gaster. "Our work all comes back to the same thing, doesn't it? The Soul."  
  
G: Gaster smiles tiredly back. Sans is a good kid, even though he isn't really a kid. A kid compared to Gaster. "Something for you to delve deeper into, perhaps?"  
  
S: "I think so, yeah." Sans runs a hand over his skull. "I know you're probably - still tired. I should let you get back to resting. I need to do some data analysis and transcribe this session, so....."  
  
G: "Are you planning on going back to Snowdin?"  
  
S: He looks at the clock. Ugh.... "Maybe in the morning. Tonight, probably not."  
  
G: "Perhaps installing bunks in theab would be a good idea.." Gaster doesn't have anywhere near a large enough team for it, though.  
  
S: "Man." That sounds kind of awesome. "I miss bed, half the time I just sleep on the couch at home too, or my brother's floor." But then Pap doesn't see him enough as is, if there were beds here it'd be worse...  
  
G: Gaster scoffs gently, "On the floor? How long has it been since you have slept in a bed?"  
  
S: "Uh." He thinks of his wadded up, gross sheets at home. "......y'know, a while."  
  
G: "Oh, Sans. I know I am hardly the monster to talk, but you really should start taking better care of yourself."  
  
S: Sans wheezes a sad little laugh. Gaster's concern feels strange and warm up his spine. "Probably. But.... I can only do so much, and Pap gets first priority, and science gets second." Although lately he's been feeling like he's not actually prioritizing in that order.....  
  
G: "You have to fit somewhere in there."  
  
S: "So do you." That came out weird. "I mean, for....you, not. Yeah."  
  
G: "Didn't I tell you, Sans?" Gaster taps a knuckle against Sans' cheek. "You have terrible luck."  
  
S: Sans laughs, startled and embarrassed and too much else all at once. Laughter is just his kneejerk panic response. He never feels more like a dumb kid than around Gaster. "I'm sorry. Ignore me. And my shit luck. ......And my language."  
  
G: Gaster nods slowly and lets his hand drop to Sans' shoulder to pat it. "Do not apologize. I don't need it."  
  
S: Sans just kind of wants to keep his hand there. This is stupid. He musters up whatever initiative he can and covers Gaster's hand with his. Bone on bone, a soft clacking, dry sounds. "I oughta let you rest now."  
  
G: "Remember yourself somewhere in there, too." But Gaster leaves him with that to go catch up on the rest he still needs.  
  
S: Sans manages to work a good three hours before he conks out face first on his notes. He wakes up to move to the couch and calls Papyrus to say gooodnight, halfway asleep as he shuffles over.  
  
G: " Hullo? " It's clear Papyrus was already asleep, but he seems awake enough to talk at least. "Brother?"  
  
S: Sans yawns into the phone before he can even really say hi. "Hi, Pap." His voice is sluggish from being nearly asleep. "S'just sayin night cause I'm." Another yawn. "At the lab."  
  
G: Papyrus groans a little. "Where else would you be?" He yawns as well and sounds like he shuffles around on the other end of the line. "Couldn't you have just texted?"  
  
S: "Can't text with my eyes closed." Sans buries his face in the couch cushion. Ugh, this thing smells.... "Hey, Pap. M '... sorry I'm not home more."  
  
G: "Why?" Papyrus yawns yet again and checks his alarm clock. At least there's still a long time until morning. "You're working really hard to get better at science."  
  
S: He makes it sound so simple. Sans loves his brother so much. "Yeah, I guess I am. Thanks, Pap."  
  
He doesn't so much hang up as doze until he realizes the call has dropped, but midway through his half asleep state he gives up and makes a decision. Himself in there somewhere, right? He doesn't really open his eyes or move, just travels himself to bed. Finally falls all the way asleep once he feels mattress under his spine.

Finally falls all the way asleep once he feels mattress under his spine.

* * *

  
G: Gaster allows a few more days rest for all of them, for the king's nannies because they will complain and for Sans because.. Well, he has to eventually admit to himself that he actually likes Sans and would feel responsible if he wound up working one of the only other skeletons to death.  
  
Which means Papyrus gets the benefit of a promise kept, time with his brother. And more importantly, time to train for the both of them. "No, no! Down, blue attacks are supposed to go down! " Hovering in the air is pretty cool, for about the first six seconds.

S: "Up, down, what's the difference?" Sans shrugs flippantly, then has to scramble when he realizes the motion flings Papyrus to the side. Crap.  
He breaks a sweat stopping his little brother in mid air. "OK, down is better."  
  
G: "Oof!" Hard landing, Papyrus scuffs his chin, but he actually could not be happier about this. Sans has taken in his Blue Attack swimmingly, and it won't be long before who is mastering it becomes a real question.  
"Careful, brother, you don't want to hurt anybody!"  
  
S: "Me? Hurt someone?" Sans scoffs loudly. "I'm not even gonna fight anyone, bro. Let alone hurt em. Nah, I just want to learn magic to be as cool as you." But he has to admit he's picking it up faster than he thought he would. Papyrus' enthusiasm is catching, and he's a natural, so Sans mostly just copies what he does. With a few twists.  
  
G: Papyrus scoffs and manages to get back on his feet, even with the force pushing him down. He was trying it out on himself before anyone else, after all, so he knows how to handle being blue.  
"Well, you're never going to be as cool as the Great Papyrus, but learning to defend yourself is a noble cause."  
  
S: "I guess I can settle for second best, then." Sans sends his first volley of bones, evenly spaced and nondescript. He hasn't really bothered coming up with a pattern. Eh. He really doesn't need one. He just likes studying with Papyrus.  
  
G: Papyrus easily steps over each bone, huffing in a manner much closer to frustration now. "Sans, take this seriously!"  
  
S: "I'm taking it seriously, so seriously." Okay, maybe not. He tries again, something a little more complicated. A narrow window to dodge through, although he keeps the spacing even and the pacing laid-back.  
  
G: Papyrus actually catches a bone with his foot and winds up on his face in the snow. He thought that was going to go much faster and jumped too soon.. Well, he guesses that's a good tactic, too! "Better!"  
  
S: "Yeah?" Sans grins and starts his second wave. A little faster. And he actually kinda mixes it up a little. Not just evenly spaced.  
It's pretty tiring, though, isn't it? Sans laughs. He's breaking a sweat. "Can't dodge forever, Pap."  
  
G: "Is that a challenge, brother?" Now that he knows Sans has the basics, Papyrus guesses he can start doing some work on his side of the field. A few of Sans' bones hit him, but it's nothing that will leave more than a couple scuffs. He sends in his own wave, tightly packed together so they'll need a higher jump to clear.  
  
S: Woops. Sans almost catches his toe on the edge of the last one, but he's good. Better once he counters with a wave that need some particularly tricky finagling to get past- the rows on the bottom and top damn near touch, so there's no way to squeeze through them. You have to follow with. It's more or less something Papyrus did, twisted, played with.  
"Course it's a challenge. It's not fun otherwise, right?"  
  
G: It seems easy enough coming at him, and Papyrus nearly thinks he has it covered. But a bone clocks him in the back of the head, " _hey!_ ", and alerts him to the ones coming up behind him. He panics for a split second, nearly stumbles into one coming at him, and winds up getting cornered. "ACK!" But he can at least take a hit before being counted as down and out.  
  
S: Sans still stops it quickly, does away with them all at once. He grins, but it's an uneasy grin. "I think that's enough of that one, don't you?" More like, the little scrape on the back of Papyrus's skull makes him upset.  
  
G: "Nonsense!" Papyrus is rubbing the back of his head, that one smarts. He'll apply a bandage to it later and show it to teacher to show he's been doing his homework. "We cannot stop simply because the going gets tough! That is the time to buckle down and power through, brother! Not go home and nap."  
  
S: "I dunno, naps are pretty good too..." What if Sans hurts him? "Alright, alright. Few more rounds. Then burgers are on me."  
  
G: Papyrus gets himself righted so they can get back to it. "Burgers are always on you, brother! I have. No. Money! " He launches one of his fun attacks that he'd sketched out. Sans has seen it, but that doesn't mean it can't be effective.  
  
S: Sans snorts and quickly clears the first part of Cool, planning out his next attack already. He could do something with varying speeds, maybe surprise Papyrus a little - He's so caught in it he doesn't clear the last part of Dude.  
  
G: " _Yes!_ " Jackpot! Papyrus plods over to the brother-shaped hole in the snow and leans over to check on him, hands on his knees. "Got you back!"  
  
S: "Papyrus.... you got me....I'm dying......" Sans groans a dramatic death rattle.  
  
G: Papyrus blows a raspberry and pokes at Sans with his foot. "Get up, you're fine!"  
  
S: "Nope....you hit me....my hp is drained.... I'm dying....." He closes his eyes and turns his head to the side.  
  
G: "Saaaans, come on! I'm hungry." Which is at least something that should get him up and about.  
  
S: Sans stays very, very still.  
  
G: "Sans?"  
  
S: He doesn't even peek one eye open.  
  
G: " Sans? " Is he knocked out? It wasn't even that bad a hit. Papyrus gets down in the snow and shakes at his brother's shoulder with a hand. "Now is not the time for sleeping."  
  
S: Nope, still nothing. Snow is melting on Sans' hoodie. He's very quiet, very cold.  
  
G: Papyrus sighs, stands, and kicks a big lump of snow onto Sans' head. "I'm gonna tell the bartender you have a crush on him!" And he turns to leave.  
  
S: "Pap no!" Sans bolts up and grabs his legs, pulling him down into the snow. "I do _not_ ." Only a little one.  
  
G: "Oof!" Papyrus' arms go out wide, and he gets snow all in his eyesockets. He spits out enough to call back. "Yeah, you do! You always crush on the tall people!"  
  
S: That......is true...... is he really that simple?..... "I do not, Papyrus, I don't like every tall person." Bikeaby is tall and he's a jerk.  
  
G: He manages to scramble up and kick more snow onto Sans. "Well come on, or I'll tell him anyway!"  
  
S: "Pap no!!!" Sans scrambles up and chases after him, leaving big troughs in the snow from his steps. "No burgers for liars!!"  
  
G: "Nyeh heh heh, you couldn't catch me if you tried, brother!" Papyrus has longer legs, even if they're the same height.  
  
S: He sure can't. Sans throws up a wall of bones in front of him. Ha. Too high to jump, he'll have to duck around. Sans uses the moment to cut in front.  
  
G: Papyrus nearly runs smack into them and scoffs at the audacity. "Playing dirty, eh brother?" That's alright, he can roll with the punches! Papyrus chases after, nearly catching up just by virtue of being long-boned. "Take this!" He throws up a short series of bones, half of them blue. "How does it feel being bested by the Great Papyrus?"  
  
S: Sans cheats , he knows he shouldn't in front of Papyrus and he does it anyways, skipping that measure of space to dodge the bones. Another wall of bones, and Grillby's is in sight, Sans slams the door open.  
  
G: "Hey!!" One moment Papyrus is looking over his shoulder at Sans behind him, the next he's smashing into his brother and sending them both tumbling into the bar. It's a tangle of bones and dirty snow for a few minutes. At least the snow melts, Papyrus isn't entirely sure this ulna is his.. "No fair!"  
  
S: "You're the one that upped the stakes, now you wanna complain I play to win?" Sans is struggling to keep his head on straight. He's also half-laughing. "Sorry, bro, them's the breaks."  
  
G: Papyrus seems dejected, but.. Well, he can't be a poor loser. PJ is a poor loser, and nobody likes him.  
"Okay, but you're still paying for burgers."  
  
"It would be incredible if Sans paid at all. " Grillby doesn't actually sound angry, but he hands a mop over anyway.  
  
S: "Hey, I just got paid." And there're Papyrus's Christmas presents to think about, and rent..... and food..... well, this counts as food. Sans begrudgingly accepts the mop and starts half-assedly cleaning the snow. "Two burg, G?"  
  
G: "Good, then I can count on your paying off your tab today." Grillby goes to the back to start on their food, completely unconvinced.  
Papyrus grabs a few napkins from one of the nearby booths and starts getting up some of the thinner patches of melted snow. "Do you eat anything that isn't coated in grease, Sans?"  
  
S: "Sure, I uh." Sans has to consider for a while. He leans on the mop while he thinks, watching Papyrus work. "I ate some of Gerson's crabapples one time, they're pretty good."  
  
G: "No wonder you're short!"  
  
S: "Hey, rude, you can't call your big brother short in public." Sans yawns and leans on a booth. Papyrus missed a spot....  
  
G: There aren't enough napkins to get the biggest puddle, and Papyrus feels like it would be rude to keep stealing them.. He takes the mop Sans is holding to finish the job. Much better! And the bartender doesn't have to deal with water. "One day you are going to show me the shortcuts you keep finding, right?"  
  
S: "One day." Sans grins. "When I catch up to you in magic, probably. Still got a way to go."  
  
G: "But that'll take _forever!_ " Though Sans did.. pretty dang good today. Certainly better than Papyrus expected him to do. And he's pretty good at dodging, too, way better than Papyrus at that.  
  
S: "Better teach me faster then, bro." Sans climbs up onto a barstool. And totally doesn't put a whoopee cushion on the one next to him, nope.  
  
G: Papyrus sits down on the other side. "If I am making the effort to teach you, I expect you to keep up with it! That means practice and independent study to improve your techniques."  
  
S: Damn, Papyrus is really onto his old pranks by now....  
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I will....totally, definitely do that." Between all the science he has going on.  
  
G: "You are, without a doubt, the worst liar I think I have ever heard." Grillby always provides such valuable input to conversations. He sets down their plates and shakes up a chocolate milk for Papyrus behind the bar.  
  
S: "Ouch, Grillbz, harsh." Sans mocks being hurt. In all honesty, this is the best he's felt in weeks.... "I'm just a busy guy."  
  
G: Grillby shakes his head and pokes a straw down into the chocolate milk. Papyrus immediately starts blowing bubbles in it. "That's true! He hardly ever comes home!"  
  
S: Wow, that....makes him sound bad.  
"I do probably sleep at the lab too much." Neither his nor Papyrus's feet quite touch the rung of the bar stool, but Papyrus is closer. He really seems to get taller every day. "But I gotta learn magic with my bro. So I'll work hard on that."  
  
G: "He promised! And Sans is very good at keeping promises." Papyrus is distracted by his burger and has to take a few minutes to figure out how to handle it.  
  
S: Sans notices the little scrape on the back of Papyrus's skull again and runs an apologetic hand over it. "Yeah, well. They're important."  
  
G: The burger is pretty good, actually, way better than when he has to reheat leftovers at home. The scrape on his skull smarts, but it isn't too bad.  
"We'll get you in fighting shape in no time!"  
  
S: Sans folds his arms on the bar and rests his head on them. He hasn't actually touched his food yet.... He pokes a fry into ketchup.  
"I'm positive we will. Thanks, Pap." He glances up at Grillby, then back down. "Bar running well today, Grillbz? "  
  
G: "As well as it always is." Grillby's is actually pretty popular when it isn't late at night. Meaning when Sans usually comes in. He mixes a drink for one of his regulars and sends it down the bar.  
"What was that?"  
"A suffering bast-ah.. Not a drink for growing monsters."  
  
S: It's actually strange being here in the middle of the day. It's pleasant, people are talking. A few large dog monsters are getting rowdy over cards at one of the tables. Sans digs into his fries and kind of enjoys it for a while.  
"Growing monsters need more milk, that's all." Maybe Papyrus will get as tall as Gaster. Is that a skeleton thing, being tall? There's pretty much no hope for Sans.  
  
G: Papyrus slurps down the rest of his milkshake in response, until there's nothing but bubbles left in the glass.  
"The Great Papyrus leads by example! Or would, if there was anyone actually following him."  
  
S: "Another milkshake, Grillby, get shakin' on it." Sans yawns and digs into his burger. Actually casting magic took a lot out of him.... "Don't worry, Pap, I bet you'll be a leader once you're older. You'll have a skele- ton of followers."  
  
G: "That was a very reassuring until you added one of your terrible jokes to it."  
  
S: "C'mon, jokes are so reassuring." Sans is making a mess with his burger and doesn't particularly care. "They make me feel better."  
  
G: "Jokes are only jokes if they're humerus."  
  
S: "Ha!!!" Sans is delighted. "I knew the apple couldn't fall that far from the tree."  
  
G: Papyrus is filled with shame and hides it in a new milkshake.  
  
S: "C'mon, bro." Sans is still snickering under his breath. "I was proud. You're going tibia-lright."  
  
G: "Nooooooo!" Papyrus shoves at Sans' shoulder. "You're SO embarrassing!"  
  
S: "Am not!" Sans pushes back with his shoulder. "That's how all big bros are, don't you know?"  
  
G: Papyrus huffs in something like frustration. He's almost posits a rebuttal, but he's cut off by a loud ppptttthhhhhbbbbbnnbhhhhhhh. The monster who sat down on Sans' other side turns a bright shade of red, and Papyrus clenches his teeth hard together. Can't laugh..  
  
S: Sans dissolves into helpless snorts, dropping his head into his arms to laugh uncontrollably. He really can't help himself, that's still funny.  
  
G: "E... Excuse. Me." The physical decision to get up and leave is very obvious, and the poor pranked monster gets up and does just that, their head dropped low between their shoulders.  
Papyrus thinks, wholeheartedly, that he has everything under control. But as soon as he thinks he has it, a very quiet nyeheheh slips out of him. He slaps his hands over his mouth as if he can take it back.  
  
S: Ha!!!! "You're smiling, Pap, I see it." Ah, but he feels bad for the poor monster he drove away- "C'mon, bud, that was all me. I just do things like that for sh....." He glances at Papyrus. Not an appropriate joke. "Uh, as a joke." Damn, it was a good one.  
  
G: Grillby just sighs, shakes his head, and pours himself a shot. When he takes it, his head flares hotter blue before dying back down. "Please do not harass the other customers, Sans."  
"Yeah, brother, how rude."  
  
S: Sans leans his jaw in his hand, grinning. "I guess you could say I har ass -" He quickly stops. Why are no relevant jokes kid friendly???? "Uh." Well. "You know what, my bad."  
  
G: " Sans! " Papyrus scoffs and punches his brother in the arm. "Watch your language, this is a family establishment."  
"I couldn't have put it better myself."  
  
S: "You two are ganging up on me, this isn't fair." Sans tries to look beleaguered. "I'm just a humble jokester trying to make a living here."  
  
G: "Nobody's paying you!"  
  
S: "Laughter is all the payment I need. Laughter and cheese burgers. "  
  
G: "I certainly hope someone else is paying you in cheeseburgers. If you are referring to me, I'm afraid you're poorly mistaken."  
  
S: "C'mon, G, don't I bring joy and laughter into your life? Isn't that a fair trade off?"  
  
G: Grillby just looks very tired for a hot second. He busies himself with other things behind the bar, probably refusing to answer. He's never gonna get paid..  
Papyrus finishes up eating, his legs swinging on the barstool. This really is much better than when he has to reheat leftovers. Doesn't taste quite so burnt..


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans gets intimately introduced to some augmentations, and to new experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content this chapter (yes, that means smut.) Also some medical scenes, potential squick.

S: It's a busy weekend practising magic with Papyrus, but Sans is proud of his own progress, honestly. When he gets into the lab Monday it actually looks like the crew has rested, too. Maybe even Gaster. At the very least, he doesn't have such deep circles under his eyes. Sans decides to work on the machine data with the rest of them today, and his own thesis work after hours. Busy, busy.  
  
G: Labwork is a slow slog, but even Gaster cannot be too harsh on the team about it. It is progress. And most of the time, progress is not made of exciting leaps and bounds but of steady work and dedication to minute details.  
It is, however, a good bit more tiring than the fun bits. There are several days where boredom and a near-constant migraine pushes the rest of the team out the door rather than demanding they come in. All those tiny numbers, all those constant strings of data..  
At least Gaster can find reprieve in someone else's projects. Even if they seem to occasionally get off-track.  
"The blasters, you mean? No, they are not one of my natural magics. I developed them after the second soul I collected."  
  
S: "Really?" Sans leans forward in his chair, toes of his slippers just touching the ground enough to push him in lazy half-circles while he talks. "In reaction to the need to collect the souls, or just- as an experiment?" Sans has brought snacks for his Q&A session with Gaster today, and he holds out the plate to offer Gaster a bagel bite between questions.  
  
G: Gaster takes one with just the very tips of his thumb and forefinger, inspects it heavily, and then sets it down on a napkin.  
"Both, to be completely honest. As I have said before, the second soul nearly killed me. The blasters were a reaction to that, it was clear to me that our magic as monsters is simply not enough to hold off humans forever. Made obvious by the outcome of the war, I suppose."  
  
S: Imagining anything nearly killing Gaster is almost impossible, as he is now. Still, that's the point, isn't it? Who he is now is so separate from who he must have been then.  
"So I take it this wasn't a case of- learning magic the standard way, with spellcards and practice." Sans shoves another bagel bite in his mouth, but he is polite enough to wait until he's finished it to speak again. "You mentioned augmentations. This is one?"  
  
G: "Yes, the most, ah.." It takes Gaster a long moment to find the accurate word.. "Intense augmentation. Certainly the one that took the longest time to perfect, but I am quite happy with the results."  
  
S: "D'you think they're replicable?" It's pure curiosity, entirely unscientific, mostly fueled by Sans' own recent practice with magic. He and Papyrus are picking up skill quickly together, but he's nowhere near as strong as Gaster. If something were to happen, and he'd need to protect Papyrus in any way...... "If I could pry..."  
  
G: "Oh, absolutely!" Gaster flippantly waves a hand as if to answer both questions at once. "I brought up the idea to the king once or twice, but he was very much against it. Thinking back on it, it is unfeasible to distribute them out to the populace at large." At the time, it made perfect sense. Many monsters are simply not strong enough to take on a human at all, so why not give them the ability? Because it was reckless, that's why. "And it is an.. invasive operation. That alone may have done more harm than good."  
  
S: Invasive.... and Gaster performed it on himself? After nearly being killed by a human?  
"In all honesty, I was thinking that as low as my stats are, I could use something that would instantaneously shut down a fight like that. But- that's." Sans laughs softly. "That's off-track. I was mostly wondering if I should count it in with the stats I was tracking, but it looks like that's all your own doing."  
  
G: Gaster hums and appears to lose himself to his thoughts for a few minutes. It's obvious, the way he is sizing Sans up in consideration. After a short while, he seems to come to a decision.  
"The second human- my first human- left me in something of a traumatized state, I am afraid. After the third, I didn't think of it anymore, which may or may not be a symptom of.." He shrugs one shoulder. "Renewed confidence or something deeper, have you ever undergone surgery?"  
  
S: It makes Sans squirm, and he really isn't sure exactly how he feels about it. Whether the squirm is a good one or not. He certainly drops that without warning. "No, never. How did the fight with the third human go?"  
  
G: "Markedly better, though they were not anywhere near as strong as the second. And you saw the fourth." Gaster leans a little forward, his elbows on the table. "The augmentation connects directly to the central nervous system. You can imagine how that would be difficult for most monsters, of course. Perfect for skeletons, however."  
  
S: "It'd be incredibly difficult for anyone but a skeleton." Sans crams another bagel bite in his mouth to mask his nervousness. "Is there anything else it does? Any.... side effects you've tracked? Or just the whole. Blasting humans into oblivion thing."  
  
G: Gaster takes another napkin and finds a pen to jot down a few notes and diagrams.  
"Using them takes a great amount of energy. Not much of an issue for me, but I also trained with them for quite a few years before I ever needed to use them in the field." He is quite taken with the idea, it seems, of finally getting to share his invention. "Of course I can make adjustments accordingly, based on your own figures."  
  
S: Sans has this habit of getting caught up in someone else's enthusiasm too often. It's half of how Papyrus gets away with just about anything, and seeing Gaster's excitement it's hard to say no.  
"I definitely don't have a lot of endurance, so- I'd probably need to use them in limited runs, but uh." He spins his chair in a half-circle while he thinks, hands folded in his lap. "That'd be the idea, wouldn't it? End it quick, before they have a chance. I don't have the stats to prolong a battle."  
  
G: "No, unfortunately, but that does not mean you have to be defenseless." Gaster would prefer it, in fact, if he wasn't. He works out some figures, does a bit of math to account for body size, general ATK and DEF. It would not be that hard, truly.. Training would be a necessity, however, carefully monitored and directed. "And a second success may change Asgore's mind about a few things, perhaps permit me a secondary research team, focus on engineering, oh- " His mind wanders off on that tangent as he unfolds the napkin for more complicated calculating.  
  
S: Sans knows when Gaster gets like this it's pretty much a done deal trying to progress on anything else, so he mostly peeks at Gaster's notes and calculations. The diagram of the blaster has half-torn through the shitty napkin paper, ink bleeding through onto the other side.  
"You could see about equipping maybe the Royal Guard.... get the King's defense force better armed........What other augmentations have you made?" He thinks he knows, remember how the world ticked when Kenny almost fell into their machine. But those are probably a lot more top secret.  
  
G: Gaster seems satisfied with an equation and takes a break in his frantic writing to consider Sans' question.  
"I've a few things hidden up my sleeve yet. Though they are far more experimental, I would not share them until I am absolutely certain of their behaviors and side effects." He's smiling to himself, something victorious and humorous at the same time.  
  
S: "Yeah?" Sans peeks up at him. He's got neither heart nor stomach, but both seem to be doing flips. "Then I'll wait before I ask about any of that." He realizes the tape recorder is still running and clicks it off. He'll transcribe the conversation later.... well, the scientifically relevant parts. The rest he'll just.... have. "You never worried about harming yourself when experimenting like that?"  
  
G: His teeth come apart and together, clicking gently in the silence left after the soft whirring of the recorder is gone.  
"I had already faced death. Experimentation seemed a much better way to go, after that."  
  
S: It's sobering, somber. Sans drags his slippers on the tile until the chair stops spinning.  
"It's a good thing. That you didn't die. I mean, that's obvious, but..... You've done a lot."  
  
G: "Progress is hardly ever made by cowards and the weak-willed."  
  
S: Sans grin fades. "That's not what I meant. I mean- wanting to preserve yourself isn't cowardice, either."  
  
G: "Of course not! It's even more rare that the dead contribute." Gaster almost blanches at the thought after he voices it. Oh, this is a bit of a titchy subject for him, isn't it? He is quiet for a loong, long time, before sighing deeply. "Perhaps we should move on to another thought."  
  
S: "Yeah. Yeah, let's definitely." Sans seems relieved, too. He really stuck his foot in his mouth there.... "Do you think I'd take well to it? The- blasters, I mean. I've been practicing magic a bit with my brother, but...."  
  
G: Yes, thank you, Sans. Gaster visibly loosens and straightens, unaware that he'd even gone a bit sullen.  
"They are unlike magic in a way I.. have a hard time describing. Magic comes naturally to us, it can live peacefully with us. Magic is a part of us."  
  
S: "And these aren't?" Well, if they're part of a surgical procedure just to gain access.... yeah, it wouldn't be like the magic he and Papyrus do.  
"What's it like?" He scoots his chair a little closer to the tabletop so he can fold his arms and rest his jaw on them.  
  
G: "Violent," Gaster says simply, "Magic flows and requires time, patience to perfect and execute. The blasters are messy and sudden. Directional. Aimed." He settles into his chair and crosses his legs, losing himself to introspection for a moment. "Inspired by the human who nearly did me in."  
  
S: "Would it be strange to ask you to talk about it?" Sans shifts in his chair, getting comfortable. "You don't have to. Just, uh. The human I saw- it looked pretty effortless, and I didn't really see what kind of threat a human could be. What did they do ? They don't do magic, so I don't know how they... actually fight."  
  
G: Gaster actually fidgets for a bit before he figures out the best route to speak of this. "As you know, humans are comprised of mostly water. They are much more concrete than monsters. They have weight behind them, a physicality that we as a species do not possess." He sighs gently. "And that human in particular nearly made it to the Barrier. They carved quite a warpath in order to get there, too."  
  
S: "How long ago was it?" Sans hasn't really heard about a human that terrorized the underground, aside from in urban legends, but then- he hasn't been around that long, has he? He remembers Gaster saying that humans don't turn to dust, either.  
  
G: "Must have been... a few hundred years ago. Quite a while." Gaster clicks his fingerbones against his teeth, thinking it out. "Long enough for me to perfect the blasters before the third came along."  
  
S: A few hundred years. Well, no wonder it's all myth and legend. "Ah." He's a little floored. He forgets, sometimes, just how old Gaster is. "Took you that long to master it?" Looks grim for Sans, then....  
  
G: Gaster shrugs. "I had other projects going on. The Core was an infantile thing for quite a long time, and it took most of my energy until.. fairly recently, actually." Fairly recently being something like a half-century or more.  
  
S: "Ah." Sans grins sheepishly. "I wonder if all skeletons live as long as you?" If Sans will live that long. He has some arbitrary sense of.... age, he guesses. If he had to put himself anywhere, it would be 'early 20's.' He vaguely remembers telling Gaster he was 22..... But in all honesty, he can't remember much (if anything) before Papyrus and he moved to Snowdin and started going to school.  
  
G: "I would not know." Gaster shrugs as if it is a question more along the line of what would you like to eat.  
  
S: "I hope I do." He hopes Papyrus does. Anyways... "Uhm, I guess that's it on the questionnaire for tonight, so...."  
  
G: Gaster stands and dusts off his knees, though.. he wasn't on them at all. "If you truly are interested in the blasters, I can set up something. A proper demonstration, perhaps a consultation."  
  
S: "Yes." Sans is maybe a little over-excited as he hops out of his chair, sending it spinning behind him. "Yes- I absolutely- I would be very interested."  
  
G: It's clear that Gaster is very pleased by Sans' enthusiasm. "Excellent. Perhaps next weekend, if you have the time?"  
  
S: He's... supposed to practice magic with Papyrus on the weekends... But. Well. This is related to magic. "Yeah, yeah I can do that."  
  
G: "Just wonderful! I am very excited you are so interested, Sans, really." Gaster claps his hands once, presses his fingers to his grin.  
  
S: He's. He's cute . "You got it, G. I'm all about furthering science and getting strong all at once."  
  
G: Gaster hums behind his fingers, delighted. Oh, he has so much to prepare now..  
He dreams of it all week.

* * *

  
  
S: Sans has to figure out how to break it to Papyrus, which is the hard part.... "Um, Papyrus."  
  
G: Papyrus didn't notice Sans coming in, so he scrambles to hide the homework he's doing. "Brother! You should knock!"  
  
S: Did he interrupt something? "Hey- sorry. I just was gonna.... uh."  
  
G: "I can't have you getting an unfair advantage and seeing my moves before they're perfected!"  
  
S: Sans grins and flops down, legs folded, on the floor. "I'm not trying to cheat." He picks at the carpet. "I wanted to, um....You know how I promised to train in magic with you every weekend?"  
  
G: "Yes! You're really going to have to buckle down this time, Sans, I have some techniques that are sure to trip you up!" Papyrus goes back to sketching and planning, but he keeps his arm around his paper.  
  
S: "Yeah, about that." Shit, Sans feels..... bad. Really, really bad. "This weekend, I have to- I may have to miss our training session."  
  
G: Papyrus lifts his head up to look at Sans before realizing he actually has to look down. "We can reschedule it! It doesn't have to be Saturday. We could do it.. Friday after school or Sunday!"  
  
S: "I." When exactly does Gaster want to see him? He knows the surgery itself is going to take a while, and then training with him...  
"I could.... yeah, we can try for Sunday, that sounds good." Does he even know he'll be back by Sunday? God.... Sans is the worst.... "I'm really sorry, bucko. I know I promised."  
  
G: "That isn't a broken promise! Simply a postponed one!" Papyrus grins and goes back to his homework, laughing under his breath.  
S: Oh, Pap. "Thanks, Papyrus. You're a great teacher." Sans gets up and runs a hand over the back of his head. He's still got a bandage there from last week.....

* * *

 

Friday rolls around and Sans hovers in the lab with all the nervous energy of someone about to go to the dentist. He has no idea what he's expecting, honestly, just that he knows Gaster is excited. "Hey, doc. Uh.... ready to get started?"  
  
G: Gaster waves a hand, shushes Sans for the extra few seconds it takes him to jot down a set of numbers, but as soon as he's done with that his look of concentration shifts into something just short of elation.  
"Check upstairs, make sure everyone has cleared out. As much as I would like to share this with everyone, it is still very much top secret."  
  
S: "Sure thing, doc." Sans walks upstairs rather than taking the quick way, mostly just getting himself together while he does. The upstairs area, the kitchen and the rest of the lab are all clear. Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets. He's got a half a carton of cigarettes in this jacket.... when was the last time he smoked one? During school, that's for sure. He considers lighting one, but he saves it. Later, after all the... science happens.  
"Alright, doc. We're all clear."  
  
G: "Excellent!" Gaster sweeps a hand out to press between Sans' shoulders and lead him through a shortcut. They emerge somewhere in Waterfall, it's not clear where. Just that the ceiling sparkles bright, and there is a strange glow about the place from all the mushrooms.  
"I found this hollow in the crust a long time ago, just a private place to test whatever needs testing. The stone has healed nicely from when I first brought the blasters here.."  
  
S: How many little places like this does Gaster know about? It's strange and empty, only bugs live here. Little forgotten places, inaccessible from the outside world. He drags the toe of his sneakers (he actually wore shoes today and everything) over the barest trace of a gouge in the stone. "You always find the coolest things."  
  
G: Gaster hums to himself and summons up a spell. His hands, so many, flit around the cavernous space to activate torches hung along the walls.  
"This was purely an accident, early tests with location-hopping. I was simply off by a few meters and managed to find it, there is no telling what could have happened otherwise!"  
  
S: "Being caught between a rock and a hard place, I imagine." It's barely a joke so much as a horrified possibility. Sans has messed up once or twice and landed in the wrong place, but Gaster has been very strict about ensuring he knows to only go places he already knows the details of. Otherwise...... "You come here often?"  
  
G: "Oh, not so much as I used to. My, I have missed this place.." It is such a beautiful little spot, now that he has plugged up all the holes in the ceiling and properly lit the place. Gaster should really do more with this.. "But that is entirely off-topic, isn't it? We came here for a reason!"  
  
S: "Right!" Sans rocks on his heels, hands stuck in his pockets.  
"A demonstration. And consultation. So..... I'd like to see whatcha got."  
  
G: Gaster laughs to himself, fingers tapping against his teeth.  
"Now, you will remember I told you the blasters are very different from magic. Magic flows. " He demonstrates, his natural magics twirling and crafting patterns in the air before fading away. "The blasters are fast and violent. Like a bullet. " The hands drop in an instant, replaced instead by the massive bestial skull and the blinding, blinding light.  
  
S: Sans has to dodge with a swear caught between his teeth, and he still has to bend space to fully avoid it. There's a smoking crater in the stone, a bead of sweat on Sans' forehead.  
Fast and violent like a bullet.  
He laughs weakly. "It's nothing like anything I've ever known about magic."  
  
G: "There is, perhaps, a good deal more we can learn from humans. I do enjoy the thought of picking through the wreckage of the war."  
  
S: Sans tries to imagine it. The over world littered with - not dust, bodies. Bodies rotting.  
It makes him feel cold all over. He really looks at Gaster for a moment.  
Eventually he laughs it off. "Like we don't have enough of their garbage down here." He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Talk technical with me. Is it hard to control?"  
  
G: "Not hard, not necessarily." Gaster cocks another shot, but he doesn't fire. The skull chatters in anticipation, it's eyes glowing with the same energy it spews. "It requires a different way of thinking. And the ability to switch modes quickly."  
  
S: The sound of the blaster warming up shudders down Sans' spine. He circles it, studying its structure and the white light glowing in its mouth and eyes.  
"Do you have to concentrate to trigger it? There's no chance of it happening by accident, is there?"  
  
G: Gaster coos gently to the blaster, his hands tracing down its elongated nasal ridge and dangeous-looking teeth.  
"I have certainly never shot one off by accident, but I suppose there must be a first for everything." He doesn't even sound horrified by the possibility, more. Tickled. "The blasters are used with intent, however, targeted force. You cock it, take aim, and fire. " Gaster sidesteps, and the thing's massive jaws split from the power of the blast it shoots off.  
  
S: Sans feels space warp around him as he moves away from the blast radius, and this time he does it quickly enough to watch what the blaster does to the ground, the grass, the mushrooms.  
"They're a killing weapon." That's all there is to it. Sans feels strange about the idea of killing anything, but.... Gaster was almost killed by a human. If one passed through Snowdin.... "Yeah, I want one."  
  
G: " Ah! " It is, perhaps, as physically excited Gaster has looked in several weeks, since the last human came through. The doctor takes one of Sans' hands and covers it with his own, grinning widely. "Oh, my dear boy, you will not regret this decision."  
  
S: Sans feels the rush up his spine, approval and excitement and contact and being called a 'dear boy' all at once hitting him. He clasps Gaster's hand back, grinning big. "Always happy to further science, Doc. When can I expect to get started?"  
  
G: "I can affix the implant as soon as tomorrow. You will need a few days recovery afterwards, a decent excuse as to why you are not in the lab.." Gaster sighs, approval apparent on his face.  
  
S: "I'd definitely like that." Sans doesn't make any attempt to pull his hands away. "I can tell the others I'm home with my brother, that's not a problem. Hell, he'll be happy to have me home recovering. I can show up tomorrow for the procedure...." He's actually kind of excited, in all honesty. Are most people excited about having killing weapons installed in them???  
  
G: Gaster hums a low note and pats at Sans hand before letting it go.  
"The surgery is going to take a lot out of you, do not expect to be living it up while you are gone." Ah, that's right, and he only has one HP... Gaster will just have to be incredibly careful, won't he? "But we will discuss that when the time comes, hm?"  
  
S: "Yeah, absolutely." Sans scrubs his hand over his cheekbone.  
"Thanks, Gaster. I should- uh. Probably rest up before the procedure, right? Any special instructions? Anything I need to do?"  
  
G: "Warn your brother, I suppose. Other than that, all the preparation is at my end." And he still has quite a bit of it to do, even with what he's done in, ah... perhaps premature anticipation, but it all worked out.  
  
S: He probably should. Papyrus is going to want to practice magic together, and Sans may not be in the shape to roughhouse... Well, he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. "Alright then. I'll see you tomorrow for the bone-ified, real deal procedure." He grins one more time. "Thanks, doc."  
  
G: Gaster laughs to himself, covering it with his fingertips, and lifts a hand to wave goodbye to Sans. Now that he's here, he has the itch to practice a bit more before heading back to the lab, and he wafts a bit between elation and anticipation for the rest of the day.

* * *

  
  
S: Sans takes the long way home, and when he stops by Papyrus's room he's got something tucked under his arm and he's grinning. "Knock knock, Pap."  
  
G: "Good job, brother!" Papyrus is on his bedroom floor with the newspaper spread out in front of him. Today's Junior Jumble is really tough, and he can't seem to find that last word... "You can come in!"  
  
S: "You're supposed to say who's there, kiddo." But Sans still comes in without making a joke. "So I was on my way home today and I stopped by that spot in Waterfall where your buds went, and guess what?"  
  
G: Papyrus pops up fast and hops over to Sans.  
"You visited the nudis?? Did they talk about me? What did they say? Are they doing okay, are they eating enough??"  
  
S: "Yeah, yeah they asked how you were." Sans produces the bundle under his arm. "They found this great place in the ocean, like a playground for sea creatures, and they wanted me to give you this because they thought of you." Sans unfolds the tattered flag. "See? A skeleton."  
  
G: He gasps dramatically (yet sincerely) and runs his hand over the stark skull and crossbones. It's still pretty wet and a little cold from being outside "They thought of me? "  
  
S: "Course they did. After all, you're like- a cool champion for justice who freed them so they could reach their home."  
  
G: "Is that what they said about me??" Papyrus is so dreamy-eyed he's about to cry.  
  
S: Sans drops the whole flag on Papyrus's head, and it makes him look like a little ghost. "You are pretty cool."  
  
G: "The Great Papyrus is the coolest.." he mumbles from under the flag. He's not crying, totally, even though he misses his friends.  
  
S: Sans ruffles the flag on his head and plops down cross-legged on Papyrus's floor. "So- listen. Tomorrow I'm going in for a, uh, checkup at the lab. Afterwise, I might be- a bit under the weather. But it means I'll have a couple days off."  
  
G: "Yeah?" Papyrus sniffles and lifts up the edge of the flag. It winds up draped around his shoulder like a cape, but that suits him just fine. "Do I get a checkup, too?"  
  
S: Sans allows his brother the dignity of not pointing out his teary eyes. Honestly, he's more stuck on the horror of imaging Gaster doing any sort of modification on Papyrus. Papyrus is too- too good to ever want, have, or use some kind of killing machine like that.  
  
"No, bro, you're healthy. Nice and strong."  
  
G: Papyrus nods in absolute agreement. That is entirely true! "And you will be after your checkup?"  
  
S: Will he be?  
In some ways, yeah.  
"Yeah. I'll be- a little tired for a while, probably. But then I'll be nice and strong. And healthy."  
  
G: "Alright!" Papyrus is happy to hear it! He's knows for a good while that he's so much stronger than Sans, and sometimes, well, sometimes it does worry him! After all, if a human ever came through.. well, it's not very likely that Papyrus will be around Sans to protect him. Even if he's doing well in training, he still only has one single HP. "We can hang out! Watch movies! Do Junior Jumble!"  
  
S: That.... That actually sounds awesome. More than awesome. Sans is already planning out a movie list. "Alright, but Junior Jumble is easy."  
  
G: Papyrus grits his teeth and shakes the paper at Sans, "Then you do it! This last one is impossible! "  
  
S: Sans stares at it for a second. "Pap, that's so easy, the answer is 'hhspsieie' ."  
  
G: "And it's not anywhere in the puzzle! These monsters at the newspaper really know their stuff, Sans, you and I will have to step up our game."  
  
S: "What? Pap, it's not a word search, you fill in the blanks...." Sans flops back onto his back and holds the sheet in the air above him. "Anyways, the crossword is harder."  
  
G: This is a pretty normal argument, actually, and goes about as it usually does. Papyrus winds up in a weird headlock until he can eventually kick Sans out of his room and slam the door in his face. But he winds up asking his brother for help hanging up the flag later.  
  
S: Sans ends up staying up too late browsing through Undernet and watching movies (even lets Papyrus sneak down and watch one with him, even though it's way past his bedtime, because it's the weekend.) When he rises in the morning he even eats breakfast (sort of, if toaster pastries count) and says bye to Papyrus before he takes the short route to the lab. "Morning, doc! I brought donuts. Uh, they're the spider kind, though, so...."  
  
G: "By spiders, for spiders, of spiders?" Gaster is up and about, in a good mood. It's just the two of them in the lab today, he already gave the rest of the team the weekend off, and he's actually done something other than obsess for the past week. Well... that isn't entirely true, but he is at least obsessing over something else. "Thank you, Sans, that was very thoughtful of you. Did you get any rest?"  
  
S: "Lil bit." Actually, he conked out halfway through 'Rise of the Garbage Dump 5' . It just wasn't as good as the first 4... "What about you? You seem chipper." Sans notes the coffeepot is already on and pours himself a cup.  
  
G: Gaster hums in affirmation as he picks through the donuts. Oh, this one has extra legs in it... "I have to admit I am rather excited! This should be markedly easier than the last time I performed this surgery."  
  
S: Euch.... none of these look especially good....Sans just drinks his coffee.  
"I still can't quite fathom how you did it on yourself... It's, uh. Impressive."  
  
G: "Mirrors and steady hands, Sans." Gaster talks around a bite of donut, too preoccupied with going through his mental checklists to worry with manners. "Are you nervous?"  
  
S: "If I said I wasn't, it'd be a fib-ula." Sans winks and does finger guns and everything. Wow. He's lame. "In all seriousness, though, uh. Yeah."  
  
G: Gaster smiles brightly. "Have no fear, Sans, my metacarpals are meticulous."  
  
S: Sans can't help but laugh, grin back at him. When he's in a good mood like this, it's infectious...... "Well then. Wanna get going with this? What should I do?"  
  
G: "Cool your head, of course. Now, I do not want you to go into this entirely unaware of what you will be experiencing." Gaster sits him down in a chair and pulls up one across from him. "You should not feel much past a few pinches and pulls, but I will need to have you awake for this procedure."  
  
S: He'll need to be awake ? Sans has never even had a tooth pulled, let alone a full operation, and he'll need to....  
No, he can.  
He can do that. Gaster is too excited for him to back out now.  
"Uh. Okay. What all- does it entail, again? You said my central nervous system, so...."  
  
G: " Oh! I have a chart, wait here.." Gaster gets up and shuffles around his desk to find his clipboard and a pencil. "Alright, here.." There's a sketch of a skeleton in Sans' proportions with several notes in hands around it. "The implant will go here, from your eleventh thoracic to your third lumbar. Interior, to hopefully avoid any  
possibility of tampering or damage."  
  
S: Sans is a little slower reading hands than speaking them, so it takes him a second to decipher the notes. It's not a bad diagram.... "Is the- implant going to be visible? Any possibility I could accidentally damage it myself?"  
  
G: Gaster hums softly, tapping a fingerbone against a tooth. "It should only be visible if you are shirtless, and it would be fairly difficult to damage it simply based on where it is positioned. Of course you can still reach it, if you decided to be exploratory."  
  
S: Sans feels the sweat bead on his forehead with that one. Not that he was considering playing with it.... That would be. Weird. Right? Yeah.  
Now the thought's sticking around, though. Will it hurt? Feel weird? What if he messes with it, will it trigger the blaster?  
That's kind of.... horrifying.  
Well.  
"In the case of damage or malfunction, what would happen? Probably I'd just be unable to summon the weapon, right?"  
  
G: "Well, I suppose that depends on the type of malfunction. But mine has remained stable and intact, and it is. Old." Relative to Sans at least. "If something were to go wrong in any way, I could fix it. Theoretically."  
  
S: "True. Good." Sans curls and uncurls his fingerbones, shifts in his seat. "I guess that's all my questions then. I'm.... ready when you are, doc."  
  
G: Gaster claps once, delighted. "Excellent! I have a room prepared for the procedure, if you will just follow me."  
  
S: "Sure thing." Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets and shuffles after Gaster. He feels like his gut is doing little flips, even though there's nothing there to flip....  
  
G: The room is just a spare, one that they don't really use for anything, that Gaster has moved some equipment into for the procedure. There's a long surgical cot that is much too long for Sans, a tray of fine instruments and drills, and what can only be the implant in a glass case. To keep out the dust.  
"If you will just hop up there and remove your jacket and shirt."  
  
S: Sans struggles up onto the cot, which is honestly too tall for him, too. But most things are, aren't they.... He hesitates a second before he peels off his hoodie and shirt and drops them onto the floor next to the cot. (He can just hear Papyrus protesting in his head.)  
"Kinda. Cold in here." He huffs a brief laugh.  
  
G: "Sans, we do not have skin." One reason the implant is ideal for skeletons. Gaster fluffs up a pillow and settles it higher up on the cot. "Because of how the implant will be installed, your spine will have to curve upwards a bit more. Lie back for me, please, with the pillow at the start of your lumbar."  
  
S: A bit.... No, Sans pushes it out of his mind and settles back into the position.  
"I'd admit to how nervous I am, but you can't do the procedure if I'm spineless, right?" He snickers as he settles back, lower back curved to accomodate. No pillow for his head, though.... He's got a great view of the dust on the ceiling fan.  
  
G: Gaster's laugh is a little more like a hum, but it is there. He carefully and methodically unlaces Sans' shoes, forgot to ask about those. It isn't an issue. He drops them on the floor by Sans' jacket and shirt.  
"Wiggle your toes for me." Gaster uncaps a marker, waiting for a response.  
  
S: Oh jeez. "Sure thing." Sans keeps his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he curls and uncurls his metatarsals, then wiggles them- pinky toe to big toe and back. He's not actually sure what the point of this is, but alright.  
  
G: "Very good, thank you. I will ask you to do that from time to time, to make sure everything is alright. But as I said, this is going to be a much easier procedure as it isn't performed through a series of mirrors." Gaster snaps on a lamp on a swan-neck and shines it directly up into Sans' ribcage.  
"This will tickle, but do try not to wiggle about too much." He carefully measures and marks a series of dots down the vertebrae he'll be attaching the implant to.  
  
S: That does tickle, and Sans has to hold in a laugh. He snorts instead, gently, trying not to jostle as he does. That's so ticklish... "Don't draw anything vulgar on me, I can't see it." He's just nervously making jokes now, he should probably stop.  
  
G: Gaster is too concentrated to answer immediately, but he gets to it after he's done marking out his guides. "What kind of monster would I be, to take advantage of you in such a way?" Very good, very precise. Now comes the incredibly delicate work. Gaster takes the tiny, tiny hand drill and gets down close and personal. He certainly isn't shy, that's for sure.  
  
S: Sans is instantly paranoid that he's gross, or he smells like his bed, or he's going to... react weirdly.... to Gaster being so close by. He drums his fingers on the bed, careful not to move the rest of his body, blinking slowly. "Gotta admit it'd be a hell of a prank." Sans grins at nothing in particular. "I bet you pull the best pranks, G."  
  
G: "I am afraid I have never been the pranking type, Sans." Gaster positions the bit of the drill over a mark and sloooooowwwwly cranks the shaft. Almost immediately, little bits of bone dust start falling away.  
  
S: "Hhhk-" It's a weird little choking sound for the first painful pinch of drill piercing bone. Sans does twitch, a little, and he grips the side of the table to stop that from happening again. Shit. "You should prank the rest of the team when- when they come in Monday. Get em real. Good."  
  
G: Gaster notices, vaguely, that Sans is strained from the twinge of it. But this work is precise. He must stay focused.  
It doesn't take long to move onto the next mark, he doesn't have to drill very deep. Gaster blows a gentle breath against Sans' spine to clear away the dust.  
"Very good, Sans, that was the first. You are doing well!"  
  
S: Sans shivers a little, a chill over the back of his neck at the cool breath blowing away bone dust. After the first pinch it doesn't hurt so much as feel strange and he tries to count ceiling tiles to distract himself. "Thanks, doc...."  
  
G: "Wiggle your toes for me, mm?" Gaster gets to work on the rest of the marks, humming gently to himself.  
  
S: Sans does, curling and uncurling, wiggling each one. It gives him a task to do, something to focus on, and he's strangely grateful for it. Still twinges every time... so he makes small talk.  
"What did you use to make the implants? Probably not plastic based for the durability fact- ghh - factor."  
  
G: "Shh, shh, it is alright. We are halfway done." Gaster gently pats against the inside of Sans' ribcage, a motion that is... somehow meant to be comforting? Gaster has never been good at that. "The implant itself is made from a combination of copper and steel, and jointed so as not to restrict any movement."  
  
S: The little pat is something and Sans...Oh, no, he should. He should stop that. The insides of his ribs are sensitive..... Sans keeps his teeth shut tightly to avoid saying anything about it.  
"Uh, what about the wiring? Is it- hh - a microchip with the weapon information?"  
  
G: "It is.. complicated. Partially magic amplifier, partially tuning crystal, partially hammer and trigger." Gaster blows away dust again. "Nearly finished."  
  
S: Sans covers his mouth with a hand. Ugh, this is..... "It seems... delicate. Very advanced." He's talking around his hand. The completed spots don't hurt, just the ones in progress...  
  
G: Gaster laughs gently, carefully. "I have modified a few things here and there, so it is just a bit different from my own." He finally sets aside the hand drill and takes a small brush instead, and he hums as he gently sweeps the dust off of Sans' spinal column. "You no longer have to wiggle your toes."  
  
S: The brush is so pleasant and relaxing after all the little sharp pinches of the drill, and Sans sighs in relief. He relaxes his toes where they were curled tight. "Will there be any, uh- differences in what we can do?"  
  
G: "Possibly!" Gaster is excited by the possibility. "We will have to see, won't we?" He handles the case with the implant delicately, his fingers barely clicking against the glass. "Are you ready, Sans?"  
  
S: Is he ready? Sans shifts, stretches, rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. Get it all out of his system while he can move. "Alright." He's kind of breathless, kind of shaky. "Hook me up, Doc."  
  
G: Gaster hums, obviously pleased. He lifts the implant out of the case and hunches down close to Sans' spine. Holds his breath as he aligns the drilled holes with the tiny screws.  
  
S: Sans holds his breath too, stays very, very still. Still, when the screws start threading in, he hisses between his teeth. He's acutely aware of it, and it smarts .  
  
G: "This will not take long, Sans, and I do promise it is worth it." Gaster only needs one hand and another finger to screw the implant in place, so his other thumb rubs around a ring of cartiledge between Sans' vertebrae. It should prove distracting, if nothing else, while he quickly sets the device in place.  
  
S: That's. Oh no. Sans' head swims, caught somewhere between how much the screws hurt and how nice that thumb over his cartilage feels. He presses his hands against his eye sockets, tries not to groan. This is weird, this is weird and he's weird for. For.  
_For science,_ he keeps telling himself, he's doing this for science, and so he can protect everyone. Shit, though. "I'm uh- sorry-"  
  
G: Gaster bobs his head to one side, as much as he is willing to with how hard he's concentrating. "Nonsense, I know how hard this is. It will be over soon." He's only three screws away from being done with it, but he does know it hurts.  
  
S: It'll be over soon. Which means Gaster will stop touching him.... It's a mixed feeling. Sans sighs out shaky, hands still pressed to his eye sockets. Gaster's idle touches are. Hn.  
"Why didn't the skeleton cross the road, doc?"  
  
G: "Why didn't the skeleton cross the road, Sans?"  
  
S: "He didn't have the guts." Sans snickers a little, not enough to jostle his spine. It at least gets him through the last sharp screws.  
  
G: Gaster twitches in a laugh, and the very last screw drops off the end of his teeny tiny screwdriver. " _Sans_ , " he admonishes, but it is gentle, "Do not move, please." The screw just barely catches a glint of light, and Gaster has to carefully carefully reach between two if Sans' ribs with his fingers.  
  
S: Sans gasps, sharp, not necessarily pained. Oh, no no. That wasn't supposed to be audible. "Doc-" He's trying to stay still, so very still, but goddammit.  
  
G: "Last one. Stay calm for me." Gaster catches it with the very tips of his fore and middle fingers, realigns it, and sets to screwing it in. It doesn't take him long, and he does one last sweep with the little brush to clear away ever speck of bone dust from the implant and Sans' spine. "Very good, very good. Here, take my hand and I will help you up. Slowly."  
  
S: Sans reaches out to grab for Gaster's hand and squeezes it a little. It's kind of hard to sit up with the pillow under his spine, so he tugs it away and tentatively tries to pull up. Ah, that's- _weird_ , he feels it.  
  
G: Gaster grimaces along with Sans. "In a few days, the bone will have healed around the screws. That invasive sensation will be gone, and soon you will not even think about it." He pats Sans' had a few times before bending to retrieve his shirt and shoes for him. "But it was not so bad. Was it?"  
  
S: Sans turns a little and feels the implant moving with him. There's sweat beaded on his forehead, but it doesn't hurt as much now that he's got everything installed. Mostly when it moves wrong.  
What does he say to that? _I kind of enjoyed it because you were touching me ? I kind of maybe don't want you to stop ?_  
"You made sure it wasn't too bad. Thanks, Doc."  
  
G: "Not at all, Sans. Thank you for taking an interest in it." Gaster helps him down off the cot so Sans doesn't jostle around too much. "Now that you are up and about, is there any numbness anywhere? Pins and needles? If so, it could be a sign that one of the screws is seated incorrectly."  
  
S: Sans shifts his weight from one foot to the other, shifting as he takes his shirt and pulls it back on. He feels... a lot better, being clothed. "My pelvis is kind of asleep," he laughs, "but I think that's just from staying in one position too long."  
  
G: Gaster nods, understanding. "And that should dissipate in just a few minutes. If it lasts any longer than an hour, do call me." He pulls up a chair so Sans might sit as he pulls his shoes back on. "Would you like me to take you home? Walking so soon can strain the connections, and I would not attempt a jump just yet."  
  
S: Sans is maybe a little clingy right now. And his legs do feel a little wobbly after his spine has been drilled into... "Yeah, I- yes please. I'd like that." He finishes tying his shoes and pulls his hoodie on, tugging it close. It is still kind of chilly in the exam room, no matter what Gaster says. "When should I be back in? Tuesday?"  
  
G: "I will call to check in on you Monday. If I say it's alright to come in, you may, but it may also take a bit longer than that depending on how quickly you heal." Monsters are fast healers, but this would be quite a deep wound for most others. And Gaster wants to make sure everything is alright before demanding work from Sans again.  
  
S: "Yeah, alright." It's a good little chunk of time. He can lay around watching movies, help Papyrus with his homework...  
Try not to get fixated on this new thing attached to his body. Picking at it is not going to help with healing.  
He curls his hand into Gaster's coat and wobbles to his feet, grinning sheepishly. "Guess I'm ready to go home whenever."  
  
G: Gaster smiles at him, his pupils bright in their sockets. "This is an incredible thing we have done, Sans. Thank you for being a part of it." He folds space as gently as he can, and they sink into the snow right on the edge of town. Well.. Still not perfect, but Gaster has mot familiarized himself with Snowdin thoroughly.  
  
S: The snow sinks over the top of Sans' sneakers and he shifts to knock it off. His hand's still wound in Gaster's jacket, so he slowly lets go, stuffs it back into his pocket. "Thank you. For making me a part of this. And for- you know. Being patient with me throughout."  
  
G: "You were a model patient. Certainly more calm that I was when I did this."  
  
S: Sans doesn't feel like he was calm at all. But compared to doing it on himself must have been..... "You made me feel very calm. I- uh." He's going to say something stupid if he keeps babbling. "I appreciate it. Lots. And... probably need to go home."  
  
G: "As I said, get plenty of rest. I will see you in a few days." Gaster waves before phasing back out to the lab.  
  
S: Sans waves back sheepishly before trudging through the snow back towards his place. What time is it?? Early, still... the procedure felt like it took hours, but in all honesty it was fairly quick. Dainty work, but quick.  
He's got time to stop by Grillby's for a drink, then. He's tender when he moves, but it doesn't take long to get there, and the stool is comfy enough.  
  
G: Grillby takes a moment to get to him, it's happy hour, but when he does, it's with a hamburger. "What else can I get you, Sans?"  
  
S: "A drink." Sans doesn't drink often- usually doesn't have time to- but hey, he's an adult, he can drink if he wants to. "What's your favorite? Lemme guess, _fireball_."  
  
G: Grillby sighs very deeply.  
  
S: "Oh come on , that one was really funny." Sans shifts the wrong way and his implant twinges and he shudders. "Just, uh. Get me a shot, then."  
  
G: A shot of what? Grillby just shakes his head and pours out a shot of firewater. If Sans doesn't like it, he should have been more specific.  
  
S: Sans knocks it back too quick and groans when it burns. Eeuuuchhh, too strong. Still, it helps relax him, and he leans forward onto his elbows on the bar and the implant pulling doesn't hurt as much as it did. "It's busy right now, huh?"  
  
G: "It's slowing down. My regulars are already here, so it's simply a matter of keeping up." Grillby goes off for a moment to clear away a few glasses and replace a drink or two. "You're here rather early."  
  
S: "Believe it or not, I'm actually off a few days." Sans pulls the pickles off his burger and eats those first. Whoo, that shot is starting to kick in.... "I just got. Operated on. So that was a thing. Is a thing."  
  
G: Grillby seems to come to more attention than he was at earlier. He has to quickly shuffle a drink down the line before coming back to Sans. "An operation? You hardly have anything to operate on. "  
  
S: "I have a spine, which is all I need. Can I get another shot, G?" He's achy all up and down now that the initial sharp pain is fading. He picks his burger apart and eats it in pieces, puts extra ketchup on the bun before he does.  
  
G: Grillby pours him another shot. "Should you be drinking out of surgery?"  
  
S: "Uh, probably. It's not like I have organs or anything to worry about. It goes right through me ." Badum-tish. He downs the next shot. "Honestly, I need to chill the hell out before I go home."  
  
G: "Anything... serious, Sans?"  
  
S: "I don't. Know. What counts as serious?" Grillby is kind of too busy to be having this discussion, isn't he? "I don't. Know."  
  
G: "Sans, you are actually worrying me." Grillby holds off on offering another shot.  
  
S: Sans frowns. "No, I mean- I dunno. It's not bad , okay? It's.... You've got a drink call over there, I can wait." Sans folds his arms and rests his jaw on them. Oh, that smarts in his spine.... "I just got worked up. Don't worry about me."  
  
G: "We can talk later, if you like." Grillby hops to the rest of the bar, serving drinks and smoozing with his regulars.  
  
S: Sans does want to talk later. He also doesn't particularly know what there is to say. So he mostly sits on the barstool achy and drunk for a while.  
  
G: It takes a while, but things become calm and quiet. The bar flies mind their own business and just want their normal drinks. Grillby tops them all off and comes to Sans with a plate of hot fries. "If I pour you a proper drink, will you sip it slowly?"  
  
S: Sans blinks blearily up at him for a while. Grillby is bright and warm.... Sans makes the room stop spinning so much. "I guess, if you insist."  
  
G: "I am not insisting, simply asking." Grillby pours him a toddy with two dollops of honey and brings it to steaming with the heat of his own hands.  
  
S: Sans watches the steam rise and shifts to try and take pressure off his spine. It smells good....  
"Thanks, Grillbz." He holds his hands around the mug for a while just to feel the heat before drinking it. "What's in this?"  
  
G: Grillby takes the ketchup bottle by Sans and refills it with a bigger one from behind the counter.  
"Black tea, lemon, honey, and whiskey."  
  
S: Sans takes a deep sip of it, sighing. It seems to settle in his bones. He watches Grillby at work, his little tasks.  
"You always working? You work so hard."  
  
G: "As the sole owner, bartender, cook, server, and janitor of my restaurant the answer is... yes."  
  
S: "I dunno how you burn the midnight oil like that, man." Sans sips more at his drink. He breathes in, out, slowly, feels the little wounds where the screws sit in his spine.  
  
G: Grillby crackles a bit. Maybe he's laughing? "I don't sleep."  
  
S: "At all??" Sans looks horrified. "Sleep is like the best thing ever invented ."  
  
G: "I wouldn't know." Grillby pushes the plate of fries closer to Sans. "Now, are you alright?"  
  
S: Sans just now notices the fries and takes the plate, spinning it around vaguely on the countertop.  
"I dunno how I feel. I kind of- agreed to let someone. Do something. That I'm not so sure is good . Cause I wanted to impress him, and cause..." Cause, ugh.

G: Grillby watches Sans for a long moment, checks the rest of the bar to make sure everyone is involved in their own drinks, and leans against the bar so he may speak quietly and privately. "Sans, if something has happened, I will not force you to talk about it. But if you need help.."  
  
S: "God, no- nothing like that ." Whatever it sounds like. "I just- I let Gaster give me this- surgery, this." He's waving his hands too much, drunken talking with his whole body, it hurts everywhere. "This weapon , and he was so excited about it, but it's for killing , but he was so, so happy- and I really like him, Grillby. Really- and." Shit. "It sounds so petty."  
  
G: "Gaster? The king's scientist?" Grillby presses two fingers to Sans' glass until the steam returns. "Slow down and explain to me what it is that happened."  
  
S: Sans runs a hand over his skull. Ugh, ugh. "I work- you know, I got this internship, through school, with the Royal Scientist. And he's amazing , a real genius, a skeleton like me, too- and. And I just think he's. Incredible." Sans takes a really long draught of his drink. It warms throughout his ribs. "So he- he's been studying the human Souls. Capturing them, for the king. And he has this- weapon, he designed. And he just wanted- so bad- to share it, so I said. I said, when he asked, I wanted it, and let him do this surgery to install it, but it's- a weapon, but the whole time. The whole time I just kept thinking he was so proud of me, probably? Shit... I got it bad , and he's slowly losing himself, but I think I can save him...." This is the most Sans has talked about this... at all. Has he ever actually had anyone to talk to about it? Sober, it seemed too daunting....  
  
G: Grillby is a little taken aback, honestly, this is the most Sans has ever spoken to him. And such a dramatic story. He is, of course, used to patrons spilling about their problems and worries. Hearing it from Sans is new. "What exactly has he done to you?"  
  
S: Sans doesn't exactly know how to explain, so he scoots back and lifts up his shirt to show his spine to Grillby. It's still raw and vulnerable. "It's for killing humans."  
  
G: "Oh, my.." Grillby leans as far as he can over the bar to get a better look. "He did this to you today?"  
  
S: "Pretty much just before I walked in." Sans feels weird still holding his shirt up. "I... asked him to. I liked letting him, don't- don't say 'did this to you' like that, it's...."  
  
G: Mm. Well, alright then. Grillby crackles gently, almost a hum as he thinks. He does not know the entirety of the situation, and truly he hasn't the right or information to pass judgement. He has to deal with things like this all the time. Oh... not all the time, this is rather specific.  
"It's important to remember, I think, that while you try to impress and. Save him, you must not lose yourself."  
  
S: Sans finally lets his shirt drop down. Ugh, he feels all woozy and wobbly and loose and for some reason everything is so sad , why is he so sad? "Grillby, why are you so good to me?" Why is he acting like this, oh no. "I just- I'm not great, I'm not a great brother, or a great protegee, I'm just selfish, but he- he's gonna save monsterkind, and all I can think about is my _boner_ ."  
  
G: "Oh, that." Grillby falls silent for a minute. "Not to detract from a serious moment, but was that supposed to be a pun?"  
  
S: Sans snorts until he's dissolving into helpless laughter. "It so was."  
  
G: Grillby crackles a little louder, but it's unclear if it's from a laugh or concern. He steps away from Sans to make last call and mixes the last few drinks of the night before returning to him. "There is always time to remember you are a person when you're trying to save monsterkind. There's nothing wrong with wanting things that aren't for the benefit of other people."  
  
S: Sans drains the last of his drink. He just feels.... bad. Bad, but warm all over. "You know he said something like that too? He said... I have to fit in there somewhere. But....." But, god. "All I want for myself is to take care of others. Papyrus, and Gaster."  
  
G: "Who's going to take care of you?" The bar is empty before long. His customers are so courteous of his time.  
  
S: "I don't know." Sans lays his head down on his arms. His spine hurts.  
"I can't put that on them. Papyrus already takes more care of me than any kid should have to. I know I'm supposed to do things like... eat, and sleep, but I'm just so _tired_ all the time."  
  
G: Grillby needs to run through his nightly routines and clean the bar. Instead, he lays a hand on Sans' skull. "I suppose I can take up the task."  
  
S: His hand is so warm, like the drink all through Sans' ribs, and Sans is weirdly- choked up by that. He looks up at Grillby, and he's woozy and spinny and. "Grillby." God, Grillby is. Grillby is too good.  
  
G: "It's alright, Sans. Even though I know you're never going to pay your tab."  
  
S: Sans laughs, hopelessly. "Is this the part where I offer to pay my tab off with services or something??" God, he's achy. When did the bar empty out? Has he really been not paying that much attention?  
  
G: "This is the part where I tell you you don't have to worry about it anymore." Grillby pours Sans another shot without comment.  
  
S: "Grillby....." Sans could. He could do a lot of things. He could probably cry right now. Instead he takes the shot and laughs when it burns a little. "You're gettin' me drunker, s'not fair."  
  
G: Grillby shrugs and gets around to cleaning the bar. "I don't see what isn't fair about it. Simply providing drinks for a friend." He sweeps up the restaurant with a gentle crackle.  
  
S: "Cause I." He doesn't know why. "Cause then I'll be drunk, and then you have to deal with a drunk friend." Shit, Grillby just called him a friend. That's unbelievably nice. "And I'll be drunk. Am drunk. Have been drunk. Et cetera."  
  
G: "You would hardly be the first person I have seen drunk, Sans. I am a bartender."  
  
S: "I- alright, you got me, but you haven't seen me drunk." When was the last time Sans was drunk? "And I'm sad and drunk, and that's dumb ."  
  
G: Grillby doesn't quite lift his head. His eyes simply shift from one angle to another. "You aren't going to make me regret having you here, no matter how hard you try."  
  
  
S: Oh, Grillby. Sans slumps forward, hissing between his teeth, head pillowed on his arms. He's barely touched his fries.... He starts eating them far too fast. "I don't try that hard at anything , so I guess I'll have to live with that."  
  
G: "You are trying terribly hard for this scientist." As busy as it gets, the restaurant isn't very big and his patrons are very good about cleaning up after themselves. Grillby appreciates them very much.  
  
S: "Because.... Because he's the kind of person that makes you want to try hard." Sans yawns. "So. Maybe I do try hard. Maybe I just like you- liking me here."  
  
G: "Then doesn't that sound like you doing something for yourself?"  
  
S: Sans laughs. He's swinging his feet on the barstool. Nothing really aches anymore, he's just slow and warm and drowsy. He wants.... he wants a lot of things. Mostly he wants to just keep feeling alright. "Tricky. Tricksy. Whatever. Just....." Just, Grillby is great. "I gotta go home eventually...." And he doesn't want to walk.  
  
G: "Eventually." Grillby gets to cleaning the bar, surprisingly easy for a monster who can't use water.  
  
S: "Ugh." Walking is hard. Moving is hard. Can't he just...... not......... "You really never sleep?"  
  
G: Oh, alright, if he's attempting to do that in the state he's in. "It would be a terrible thing, for a flame to go out. Wouldn't it?" Grillby comes back around the counter to help Sans with... whatever that is he's trying to do.  
  
S: "I never thought of that." Sans braces himself on the bar. He wants to......... go home? Not stand. Be horizontal. In a bed. "I thought you might just- simmer. Simmer? Like a kettle." Shit. "I'm not in a bed, I needa be."  
  
G: "Gaster's?" Grillby pops loudly, like he's admonishing himself for that. "That was rude of me, sorry." He would throw one of Sans' arms around his shoulders, but he's much too tall to help much. And Sans' seems... too heavy to carry.  
  
S: "Shut up." Sans leans on Grillby. "Yes." Stupid. For being made entirely of flame and magic, Grillby is a pretty alright support. Then again, he probably has as much solidity to him as any other monster. His hand finds Grillby's vest and holds on. "Don't make fun of me for it. He's.... tall." Sans snickers. "You could take me to _yours_ ."  
  
G: Grillby slides one hand under Sans' arm, holding him up as well as he can. "You've obviously been drinking. And I'm not just saying that because I was the one serving you drinks."  
  
S: "You rigged the system." Sans yawns again. "You set up us the bomb." Is that even a relevant joke? The walk to his house is going to take so long... Shortcut time. He brings Grillby with him. Everything is a bit whooshy when he bends space. His spine aches with that.....  
  
G: Grillby flares bright and hot, startled horribly by it. He doesn't know where he is.. and didn't get to lock up the bar.. His head flickers nervously. "Sans, did you do this?"  
  
S: "Huh? Yeah..." Wait, he isn't supposed to do that in front of anyone.... "Shit, don't tell, that's a secret thing. Like... this is a secret thing." He gestures to his spine. "Ugh, this is why I shouldn't drink...."  
  
G: From the looks of it, it's a bedroom.. Old mattress. Treadmill? A pair of fuzzy slippers. This must be Sans' room. Grillby's fire dies down, and the shadows come back until it's almost completely dark again. "I won't ask how you did that." He probably already knows, or at least guesses that he's got a good idea. He carefully guides Sans through the minefield of socks and old clothes to his bed. What he assumes to be Sans' bed.  
  
S: "Good, cause i won't tell you. Secret." He should think of a good pun.... He can't. His sheets are all coming off at the corners... Too bad. He collapses back onto the bed. Too damn hard, his spine hurts. "Ideally the first time I brought someone to my room wasn't gonna go like this. Also my room would be clean. And in a bigger house."  
  
G: "The first time? Sans. I'm touched." Grillby's fire burns low and quiet, making shadows dance around the room.  
  
S: "Who has time for that kind of thing? And who...actually succeeds at it, not me, look at my track record." Grillby is so soothing.. like a lava lamp.  
  
G: Grillby flickers close to his core. His light is dull now, little more than the glow of embers. "How many people have you invited to your bedroom, exactly?"  
  
S: "Uh." Has he even gotten as far as the invitation in most cases? "Let's see." He counts on his fingers. "If I count you, and every other invitation.... one."  
  
G: "You didn't invite me."  
  
S: "No, I guess I just brought you. Well, then a big fat zero." Sans is kinda pathetic, isn't he?  
  
G: Grillby flares up a little, laughing. "You could still ask if you were a gentleman."  
  
S: Is Sans a gentleman? He should be. "Grillby, would you like to come back to my place with me?" Like he's not already here.  
  
G: "Hm.." Grillby finds the blankets wadded up in the space between Sans' mattress and footboard. They aren't in the best condition, but they will serve to keep him warm. "Alright."  
  
S: Sans rolls onto his side, blinking at the low and gentle light Grillby casts through the room. "I didn't anticipate getting this far, I don't know what to do next."  
  
G: " You can rest." Grillby slips his tie off and undoes his shoes. "You are in no state to be doing anything besides sleep."  
  
S: Sans attempts to make a disappointed noise, but in all honesty he's too tired to do anything but sleep. "What about you?" He's so warm.... Sans scoots over a little.  
  
G: Grillby can take a hint. The bar is still unlocked, but Snowdin is a sleepy safe town. "I'll be here." He slips his shoes off and slides into the spot Sans' made for him. Narrow bed.  
  
S: Sans knows his bed wasn't made for two, doesn't care. Grillby feels solid and so damn warm, way too pleasant. Sans yawns and scoots to get as comfortable as he can. The heat helps the ache in his spine, too.... "Mmh. Thank you."  
  
G: Grillby dies down until he is barely more than a flickering core. It proves to be a long night, but the shadows dancing on the walls leave him enough company to avoid boredom.

* * *

  
  
S: When Sans wakes it's with a groan that rattles his teeth, pulling a pillow over his head. "I feel like death warmed over."  
  
G: The room looks a good bit better. Clothes are in their appropriate hamper, the sheets are fixed as much as they can be, trash is collected in its bin. And it is rather early, still, earlier than Grillby thought he would have to deal with Sans waking.  
"That means you are very much alive." He flickers and climbs his way back onto the bed and back into his clothes, pushing outwards in order to fill them again.  
  
S: Sans blinks blearily at the process of Grillby reshaping; it's kind of intimate and he feels like he shouldn't be seeing it. Also, he can see his floor? Laundry is in a basket ?  
"Is there no end to how much of a gentleman you are?" Sans at least remembers last night with more or less clarity, although he may be a little fuzzy.  
  
G: "That depends very much on what you consider a gentleman, I think. I am in your bed after you spent the night drinking." Grillby gets more or less reshaped, though his clothes are a rumpled mess. He'll change before he opens the bar.  
  
S: "If you count cleaning my room and making sure I sleep as taking advantage of me." Sans hesitates a second before scooting closer so that he and Grillby are touching. What time is it? Everything hurts, and he's thirsty, and his skull feels like it's splitting. "I didn't even get to attempt seduction."  
  
G: "I can't imagine what that would be like." Really, he can't. Sans is just so... goofy that Grillby has a hard time trying to see him being serious.  
Though he was very serious last night, to a point, and even the humor he threw out was. Sad.  
  
S: "Probably more bad jokes, let's be real." Sans yawns. He's feeling bold, so he tangles his legs with Grillby's. Everywhere he touches him feels like a space heater... Way too comfortable. "Something, something boner, something something you're hot, something something heat things up."  
  
G: "Ah... Yes, I see how that could have worked." He flares up a bit, creating more heat and flickering through his clothes. Flames lick up between the buttons of his shirt.  
  
S: Sans scoots even closer, ribs to torso, just to keep leeching warmth from Grillby. It's true he doesn't have skin, so he doesn't HAVE to deal with being hot or cold, but it doesn't mean being warm doesn't feel great. "It would've worked, then? What a charmer I must be."  
  
G: A flame pops and crackles, something like a laugh. "You got me this far, didn't you?"  
  
S: "Coulda been a pity party." He didn't exactly cry on Grillby, but he got close. Although... crying on him sounds like it would be unpleasant and dangerous for Grillby. He lets himself actually throw an arm over him. Maybe he's just this bold because he's hung over. Or because it's _Grillby_ , who's seen him through pretty much everything. "But I do admit to being pretty impressed with myself so far. I guess I really _boned up_ on my seduction."  
  
G: Grillby sucks down to his core again and reforms on top of his clothes rather than in them. "Look at that, you're quite good at this."  
  
S: "Ha!" Sans' laugh is startled and helpless and giddy, when suddenly presented with so much warm flame in such an appealing shape. He presses his palms to his chest and watches flames lick up between his bones, carpals, metacarpals. "Slam dunk for me, right into the bone zone or whatever."  
  
G: "Sans."  
  
S: "Come on, it was inevitable." But Sans lets his hands roam a little bit in place of further puns. He can totally, definitely turn off the nervous joking. For sure. "Don't get all hot and bothered over it."  
  
G: " _Sans._ " Fire licks up Sans' arms, filling the gaps between his fingerbones and ulnas and radii.  
  
S: Wow, that is. That is hot. Pun both intended and unintended, it's literally hot as well as definitely turning Sans on. "I'll stop the jokes. Really. Definitely. Maybe." What he won't stop is letting his hands wander. Grillby's hips are nice to hold. He's solid and not, all at once, it's an experience.  
  
G: Grillby draws back, and his solidity wavers in exchange for the freedom of flame across what used to be his body. "I won't hurt you." His voice is a quiet roar, deep and snapping like a forest fire.  
  
S: That is possibly the hottest thing Sans has experienced in a while, and it settles at the base of his skull and the base of his spine, through his ribs as a spreading ache to be touched. "Yeah?" His voice is husky. "I trust you."  
  
G: The fire hisses somewhere near Grillby's core, smooth and low. He pushes himself up against Sans' ribs, fire just barely slipping up the hem of his shirt, nothing deep and exploratory just yet. If he pays attention, he can see himself flickering in the device planted in Sans' spine..  
  
S: Sans shudders, pressing just the tiniest bit closer, further. There's not so much substance to Grillby now, and when Sans' hands press his fingers can slip into flame, feeling out heat and pressure rather than substance. And it feels....really, really nice. He lets his eyes slip closed and laughs, a little. There's a terrible human song stuck in his head.... no, he is not ruining the moment.  
  
G: Affirmation, then. Sans can laugh at just about anything, of course, but Grillby takes it as a go-ahead. He pushes up and up until he can slide Sans' shirt off over his head and toss it aside. Fire licks at ribs and collarbones, slipping between in places and barely tracing others.  
  
S: Oh, wow. Wow, wow. Sans breathes out, arms wrapping closer around what substance of Grillby he can hold onto, clinging tight. He's sensitive all over, the little places Grillby slips between make his head spin. The places he barely touches just leave him wanting more. He presses his teeth against heat and flame and pressure, not so much a bite as just putting his mouth somewhere to hold on tight. He's laughing again, but it's quiet and breathy and giddy.  
  
G: Grillby flickers around Sans' mouth, the rushes of breath both disturbing and feeding flame. He slowly, slowly sinks into his core, letting Sans sink down onto the bed. Grillby is little more than a molten orb of fairy fire, but he pushes himself up into the cage of Sans' ribs.  
  
S: Sans laughs again, because he was just getting the hang of this, and Grillby goes and changes the rules on him, but most everything catches and stills when Grillby pushes up into his ribs. Heat concentrated and close and tight inside him, feels impossibly intimate. He clutches at his sheets tight. One corner pops off the mattress. Goddammit.....  
  
G: Slowly, gently, Grillby starts growing again. Fire fills the hollow, pressing outwards until Grillby meets the resistance of bone. There's light dancing on the walls, striated with the shadows of Sans' ribs, and the pleased hum of a well-tended flame.  
  
S: Oh, oh . Heat filling him up, and Sans can't help the rattly little moan chattering out of his teeth, the breathless laugh, the way he tries to stretch as far as he can just so there's more for Grillby to fill. He wants to touch something, touch Grillby, and his fingers quest between his ribs just to press into flame and feel the heat licking them.  
  
G: Grillby fills him up, but he is still careful of the.. new addition. And curious. He takes time to study it since he's in here, anyway. It looks... painful. But fairly innocent at the same time. Grillby is not a scientist himself, of course, so all he can do for now is avoid touching it. Instead, he pushes fire up over Sans' collarbones and against his jaw, slips into the spaces between his chattering teeth.  
  
S: When Sans laughs again, it crackles with flame, and his voice feels husky and smoky and good when he moans. He feels _insatiable_ , like no matter how much of Grillby he gets it just won't be enough. His hands move from his ribs to tug down and off his shorts, kick them off onto the floor wherever they may land. Oops.... and it just got cleaned up....  
  
G: " _Well alright,_ " Grillby hisses against the roof of Sans' mouth. The fire creeps down his spine, carefully avoiding the implant along the way, and flickers around the jagged point of Sans' tailbone. More space to fill, he is so very hollow. Grillby spreads like a wildfire.  
  
S: Grillby's voice echoes inside Sans' skull and it feels weird and cool and erotic. More so, the way he's filling Sans up is almost overwhelming, the heat over every inch inside him. Sans can't stop his hands, either, plunging into flame wherever he can reach it, pushing into heat up to his knuckles, laughing around crackling flame. "Oh, wow."  
  
G: "Having fun?"  
  
S: "Y-yeah." Way too much. "What about you?" Is Grillby enjoying this as much as Sans is, because Sans is....he's really, really - it's. "It's really good."  
  
G: Grillby's core pulses a little brighter, and his fire shifts gently from cool reds to hotter yellows. He wavers blue across Sans' pelvic inlet and the blade of his mandible. "It's been quite a while since I've gone a bit wild. I forgot how good it can feel."  
  
S: Where it's hottest is almost too much, Sans has sweat beading on his forehead, his femurs are trembling. He keeps pressing fingers through his ribs and into the dip of his pelvis to touch more heat. "I had no idea." Now that he's tried it, he's not sure how he's ever going to stop.  
  
G: "Sans. You're panting." Grillby presses against the back of his teeth, a tongue of fire sliding along the cracks and crevices.  
  
S: "It's hot," he laughs, but he is panting. There's building up, of his shivers, heat rising through him with every touch. Sans parts his teeth so a tongue of flame can slip out, heat and smoke clouding his skull.  
  
G: Grillby crackles a laugh and shifts his core down into Sans' pelvis. The heat intensifies, running fluid from the core and pooling wherever it catches on bone. "Sex on fire."  
  
S: Sans can tell he's quickly approaching a precipice, and the laugh that bubbles up his throat at the statement pushes him closer. The song is gonna get stuck in his head.... does Grillby even know it? "Whatever you do, don't - stop - that."  
  
G: "I wouldn't be so cruel." Grillby flares up higher, wrapping around Sans' spine and nearly meeting the ceiling. His core drips fire, white-hot at his center, and he reforms just enough to press a bite against Sans' jaw.  
  
S: That's about as much as Sans can take, and he gasps a groan as he dissolves into helpless twitching and shuddering. Everything everywhere feels _good_ , down to his marrow, and he clutches at what of Grillby he can touch as he rides it out. He's still tingly through his ribs, his hips, his spine as he comes down. There are going to be scorch marks on his ceiling....  
  
G: Grillby lingers for a few minutes, gradually dying down and backing out of Sans' nooks and crevices. "You're rattling." And both of their clothes are scattered over the mess of the bed. Grillby withdraws and reforms on the edge of the mattress, one hand settled on Sans' hip joint.  
  
S: "Shake me to pieces why don't you." Sans says it with utmost reverence. He collapses backwards onto the bed, one hand over Grillby's, no inclination of moving anytime soon. The tingling still hasn't quite worn off, and he feels too good to notice his back pain, or his achiness, or his headache, or his hangover. Man...... sex is great.  
  
G: "If you'd like." Grillby flickers in between Sans' metacarpals. "I think I hear your brother awake."  
  
S: "Oh, shit." Sans scrambles to sit up, gets lightheaded. "Shit, I need to- you're gonna have to go open the bar, and if Pap's up....-" If, what? Somehow he just. Doesn't want to even open that can of worms. Especially since it'd warrant analyzing this. "Not- not to rush you out. Just... shit."  
  
G: Grillby finds his glasses on the bedside table and slips the chain over his head. "Think nothing of it, I understand totally." And he really does need to get to the bar, brunch starts in a couple hours. "Thank you for a pleasant time, Sans."  
  
S: "Yeah. Yeah, I- I really needed that. Thank you." Sans rubs his eyes again. He's finally coming down off the euphoria... "So is, uh. This a one-time only thing, or is there any possibility this might happen again?"  
  
G: "Would you like it to happen again?" Grillby starts dressing the traditional way, one leg at a time.  
  
S: Watching him get dressed is pretty nice. "I might, yeah. If- you're interested. Not any kind of- strings thing, nothing like that. Just maybe something like this every once in a blue moon."  
  
G: Grillby buttons his shirt one button at a time, even if it is rumpled. He enjoys the routine of it. "I think I'd enjoy that, Sans. Thank you."  
  
S: "Yeah. Thank you, G." Sans finds his own rumpled clothes on the floor and starts pulling them on. He stretches, yawning. He's still gonna have to deal with his hangover, his healing pain, and all the rest.... but. But well, at least he had something nice with his day. "I'll see you around the bar."  
  
G: "Please do." Grillby lays a hand on Sans' head before turning to go. The coast is clear until he finds Papyrus in the kitchen, trying very hard to properly fry an egg. "You have your heat set too high."  
The little skeleton looks from his pan to the bartender who randomly appeared in his house and gives a sleepy thumbs up. "Got it.."  
Grillby takes his leave after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBH I didn't really ship Sansby before this RP, but now I can't be stopped.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans spends some time with people who aren't Gaster, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit more 'filler' than anything- mostly brotherly fluff, with a little extra fun with the lab team thrown in. I tend to think of it as important character development- the lab team scene is one of my favorite thus far simply due to how fun it was to write- but if for some reason you want to skip the happiness and get right to the suffering, it isn't hugely impactful on the overarching story.

S: Sans ambles down the stairs more slowly, achy in places he didn't even really know he could be achy. Everything hurts. He smells like a barbeque..... Papyrus is already downstairs eating breakfast and Sans shuffles into the kitchen to turn on the coffeepot. "Morning, Pap."  
  
G: Papyrus doesn't notice him for a long minute, too preoccupied with trying to save his egg, but he eventually realizes it's going to taste delicious, anyway. "Sans? Brother, I did not know you were home!"  
  
S: "Hey, g'morning Pap." Sans waves sheepishly at him. "I got in late last night, sorry." That egg smells burnt.... It's still kind of making Sans hungry. He shuffles around for pop-tarts in the pantry.  
  
G: "Yes, I waited up! How was your checkup?" Papyrus notices Sans reaching for something and motions him away, instead. "No, nonono! I, the Great Papyrus, must look to your continued health and good fortune. Allow me." He crowds Sans out of the kitchen and towards the couch.  
  
S: "Wait, Pap, I was just gonna." Too late, Sans is ushered to the couch and Papyrus has that look in his eye that says he's not taking no for an answer. Sans gives in and flops onto the couch.  
"My checkup was, uh. Fine. I'm pretty tired." More like he's hung over, kind of still singed on the inside, and he's still hurting from surgery. Way to take care of yourself, Sans. "You didn't wait up too late, did you?"  
  
G: Papyrus looks a little guilty before ducking back into the kitchen. "I was in bed by my bedtime! Mostly.." He may have stayed awake for an extra thirty minutes.. He pulls the toaster out from under the counter and pops two Poptarts into it for Sans. He should probably have a healthier breakfast than this, though... Papyrus  
gets out another egg.  
  
S: "You know a full night's sleep is good for growin' bones." Papyrus never seems to need as much sleep as Sans, he has no idea where his brother gets all the energy. If Sans got paid to sleep....  
Well, actually, he'd still probably be pretty broke lately, he doesn't sleep near enough.  
He finds the remote stuffed between two couch cushions and turns on the TV. What's even on? When was the last time he just channel surfed?  
  
G: "I know! But I was worried.." It isn't like Sans provided him with a lot of details as to what was going on. The poptarts pop up right as the egg comes to a fairly even shade of brown, both sides.  
  
S: That actually doesn't smell as burnt as the last one.... Sans feels a little guilty. He intended to get home early and spend time with his brother, and instead he...... got drunk and hooked up with the bartender. Wow. Excellent guardian, right there, brother of the year. "I'm sorry bucko. I didn't mean to worry you. I'm alright, see?"  
  
G: Papyrus brings Sans his plate and a big, tall glass of orange juice. "I see! And you're going to need plenty of rest, so just leave everything to me! Nurse Papyrus is on duty!"  
  
S: That egg actually even looks edible, Sans is impressed.  
"Alright, Nurse Papyrus, I need your expert medical opinion." He balances his plate on his lap and takes the orange juice. "I need 50ccs of movies, stat, and you gotta write me a prescription."  
  
G: "Nurse Papyrus is on the case!" Wait, that's the thing detectives say.. Whatever, it can still work out! He takes a close look at Sans, one hand on his chin as he looks his brother up and down. "Stiff posture. Squinting eyes. Persistent flush.. Clearly, you're in need of high school coming-of-age comedies!"  
  
S: Really? Sans snorts and shoves a bite of pop tart in his mouth. "Nurse Papyrus, that's pretty astute medical knowledge. But you better help with the dosage: John Hughes, modern satire, or monster flicks?"  
  
G: "Mean Girls."  
  
S: "Again??" Doesn't this make like the eighteenth time? "Mean Girls it is, I guess. But only if we watch Easy A afterwards."  
  
G: Papyrus huffs, "I don't get all the jokes in Easy A.."  
  
S: It is....kind of more mature, isn't it? Sans realizes it's probably inappropriate for kids, considering the whole thing is about losing your virginity.... "Okay, how about we watch Mean Girls, and then......uh. What do we watch after Mean Girls?"  
  
G: "Nurse Papyrus thinks that... the Breakfast Club is a good follow-up treatment." He's never actually seen it, but the others who have say it's pretty good and gives insight into the human's societal hierarchy. He can definitely use that to get a leg-up on his next test.  
  
S: "Breakfast club. Yeah, that's a good one, let's go for it." Sans tries his egg. It's........solid. But not bad. Papyrus even didn't stick it to the pan. "Alright kiddo, you better inject these movies right into my bloodstream, ASAP. I'm flatlining....!"  
  
G: "I don't know what that means, but it sounds bad!" Papyrus plops next to Sans on the couch and pulls up Undernetflix on their television. "Wait, we need popcorn, too! Is popcorn good for breakfast? I guess we'd have to watch the Breakfast Club first in order to find out...."  
  
S: "Spoiler warning, popcorn is great for breakfast. Trust me, that's like the main moral of the story."  
  
G: Papyrus scoffs, clearly offended, and claps his hands over where his ears would be if he had any. "Spoilers, Sans! Come on!"  
  
S: "Don't worry, I haven't ruined the twist ending where everyone turns out to be robots yet." Now Sans is just messing with him. "Wait, oops."  
  
G: " _Saaaaans_! Now we can't watch it until I forget all that!" Papyrus jabs an elbow at Sans, but it actually lands very softly.  
  
S: "C'mon, you'll forget all of it by the end of Mean Girls." He absolutely will, actually..... That little elbow tap makes Sans laugh and he doesn't so much throw a pillow at Papyrus as pomf one onto him with all the force of a landing butterfly.  
  
G: Papyrus scoffs. "I won't! I will sit here and obsess over it and constantly wonder how it's revealed that they are robots and why popcorn is so important to the central plot!"  
  
S: Sans flops onto the pillow he just threw at Papyrus. "Oh shit, you know what? That was the wrong movie I was thinking of. Those are actually both facts from 16 Candles. My mistake."  
  
G: "Jeeze, then I guess I'll have to watch that one, too.." Papyrus finds movies on Undernetflix and starts it before hopping up to get popcorn going. "Maybe I should take notes this time.. We have a quiz on human hierarchies coming up soon."  
  
S: "Lucky, I never got to take tests about Mean Girls in school. We had to take tests on Back To The Future."  
  
G: "Well, now we have a much better understanding of human society! Yours is.. outdated."  
  
S: "Outdated? Rude." Sans digs around in the couch cushions and finds a handful of change. Nice. He also finds a whoopie cushion. Extra nice. He slips that into Papyrus's spot. "I'll have you know I know so many human memes."  
  
G: Papyrus catches the popcorn right when it's at that critical stage of almost-burned but not quite. "Don't."  
  
S: Everything smells like popcorn now. Sans doesn't particularly care. "What's the matter? U mad, bro?"  
  
G: Papyrus tosses a handful of popcorn at Sans, and it bounces off his dumb grinning face harmlessly.  
  
S: Sans picks up the popcorn that get caught in his hoodie and eats it. "Don't be jealous, bucko, we can't all be the funny one."  
  
G: "Your continued antagonization is a real issue."  
  
S: "That's how brothers show love, haven't you been paying attention? I don't make the rules here. You wouldn't want your bro to be a dirty rule breaker, would you?" Sans props his feet up on Papyrus when Papyrus sits down.  
  
G: At least he isn't wearing shoes. Papyrus deals with his lot in life and sets the bowl of popcorn on Sans' stomach. "It seems that I'm the rule-breaker this time. Nothing gets under your skin."  
  
S: Sans immediately starts shoveling popcorn into his mouth. "Bro. We don't have skin."  
  
G: Papyrus gets caught up thinking about what he's just said and sighs miserably, his face falling into his hands.  
  
He doesn't linger on it too long, though, because this is one of his favorite movies and he soon gets caught up in watching it for what must be the hundredth time.  
  
S: Sans probably goes through a full two bags of popcorn. He's seen this a hundred times, so half the time he's playing with his phone or texting. Not that he doesn't join in with Papyrus to quote the best parts.  
  
G: Overall, it's a very calm and chilled-out day. Around lunch, Papyrus takes it upon himself to cook something. It turns out... edible. In the strictest of terms.  
  
S: Sans doesn't even get sick eating it. He, in fact, takes a picture and shares it on monstagram.  
  
G: _Who died?_ Is the text that comes soon after, from Bikeaby.  
  
S: Good ol' Bikeaby. _i died, I'm texting this from my funeral. doc will no doubt expect me to come in despite this._  
  
G: _how noble of you, in your last moments, to post a pic of the scoundrel who bested you_  
  
S: _let the world know.... here lies sans..... bested by. uh, i think this is soup? bested by soup._  
  
G: _what a way to go. not even a hotdog eating contest or anything, just soup_  
  
S: _i never expected to go out like this. i have so much left on my bucket list._  
  
G: _for having so much on your bucket list, you sure don't do jack shit_  
  
S: _i do shit sometimes, this weekend i watched mean girls and got laid, that's something_  
  
G: "Sans got laid!" Bikeaby nearly knocks over the bong trying to show the text around.  
_well butter my biscuit, you got your biscuit buttered. so how is the doc, he likes it freaky right?_  
  
S: _wow you really have a lot of faith in me thinking i could crack that nut. wasn't the doc, it was a friend of mine._  
  
G: "Sans got laid, and it _wasn't_ the doctor!"  
_holy shit, i'm so proud. sans the skeleton popped his cherry. knuckle? skeleton pun._  
  
S: "Holy fucking shit." Jawbone is actually too high to process that. "That means Sans knows another monster that isn't us, the doc, or a family member."

 _popping my knuckle just sounds kinda gross dude. ten points for the pun, though, that makes you almost cool._  
  
G: Bikeaby snickers and flicks his lighter a couple times before taking another hit. "This calls for a celebration."  
_got a joint for your grand achievement, but you gotta come get it and tell us all about it_  
  
S: Papyrus is about to go to bed, actually....  
_wow i'm actually getting invited somewhere? holy shit unprecedented. once my bro is in bed you are so sharing._  
  
G: _lighting one in your honor as we speak, really burning it up here_  
"He's comin' over, let's order a pizza."  
  
S: "You order the pizza, I ordered the last one." Jawbone has given up moving for the day, he's cool to just. Sit here and stare at the TV. "Anyways, why do we have to order a pizza just because he went and got-"  
"Got?" Sans peeps his head around the door. "Heard you were talking shit, J.B."  
"What the fuck?"  
"The riverperson goes really fast and my brother fell asleep midway through Pretty In Pink, so." Sans just cheated honestly.  
  
G: Bikeaby looks from Sans to his bong and back again. "This is good shit, man, time isn't even real." He starts rolling up a fat joint. "Which may be true anyway, so."  
  
S: "Time's an illusion, the timeline is fucked to hell and back, gimme some of that good shit." Sans flops onto a beanbag. "Kenny here?"  
  
G: "Nah, Kenny has better shit to do than sit around in their underwear and smoke weed." Bikeaby licks the paper and twists the joint closed before passing it over to Sans. "Plus I didn't invite them."  
  
S: "I'm apparently overdressed for the occasion. Shoulda showed up sans pants."  
"You just made a pun based on your own name."  
"Yeah I did."  
"Get out of Bikeaby's house."  
"Not before I smoke this fat joint." Sans accepts it and finds a lighter. "I probably don't want to rant about getting laid in front of Kenny, anyways."  
  
G: Bikeaby shoots a hand out to pop Jawbone, but he gets... so distracted by how fast he moves. "Riiiigghhtt, so, you gonna tell us about the sweet piece you've got back home?"  
  
S: "Uh." Sans snorts. "I dunno if it's that big a deal? It's not like....any thing like that. I uh, I just invited the bartender from that place I like back to my place." He  
won't mention the getting drunk and emotional on him beforehand.  
"Aren't I the only one you haven't invited to that bar?" Jawbone nods his head to indicate he wants another hit on the bong.  
"You gotta level up my social link, JB."  
  
G: Bikeaby takes a second to notice, but he picks up the bong and flicks the lighter in the bowl so Jawbone can take a hit. "You're talking about that fire sprite, yeah? He ain't even got anything, dude, how does that work?" At least... Bikeaby has never thought of fire monsters with genitals... Wait. Wait a second. " YOU ain't even got anything, dude!"  
  
S: Jawbone chokes on his hit around a laugh, coughing out smoke and snorting. "Oh my god."  
"What, so you're uncreative you can't have sex without fleshy bits? Booooooriiiiiing."  
"I should have known we were going here, but I wasn't ready."  
"I mean, we're all made out of magic and compassion and shit, theoretically you just gotta both believe and any monsters can fuck, right?"  
  
G: "That... That is the most inspiring shit I've ever heard, actually. Wow, man." Bikeaby swipes at the hole in his face like he's wiping a tear away from his eye. "I mean really, that's awsome. So, you gonna spill the deets or what?"  
  
S: "Are we talking 'vague description' deets or am I writing you erotica?"  
"Uh, not erotica."  
"Don't wanna get a jaw-boner?"  
"Sans, shut up and tell the story."  
Sans takes a long hit to delay as long as possible. He's maybe kind of embarrassed. "He sort of.... got inside me. And filled me up. With fire. I probably still smell like a rack of ribs."  
  
G: Bikeaby's mouth starts watering, and he half-flops over to Sans to have a good sniff. "Oh my god, you're right, you smell so good. I am so fucking hungry, somebody order a pizza before I start chewing on the carpet."  
  
S: "Jesus, fine, I'll order the damn pizza. Toppings?" Sans whips out his phone.  
"Cabbage and ham."  
"What, ew."  
  
G: "Anchovies and brussel sprouts."  
  
S: "You guys' pizza topping tastes SUCK."  
"What do you like?"  
"Literally just tomato sauce, what the hell else do you need on pizza? Extra sauce, light cheese, pan pizza."  
"Anchovies and brussels sprouts actually doesn't sound bad...."  
"I apparently need to get a lot higher a lot quicker."  
"Get to smokin, kid."  
  
G: "Hop to it, this is the good stuff." His sister grew it in her window box. "So, how was it? Your fiery new lover?"  
  
S: Sans smokes for a while because he's still weirdly embarrassed about it. Somehow. Nothing was embarrassing during, or even after, but somehow talking about it is making it weird.  
"I had a good time. It was.... different than I expected. Not as dramatic. More just....fun. Everyone acts like it's supposed to be a big deal, all these dramatic things about becoming an adult or whatever.... but mostly it was just fun and I was worn out after. I don't feel any different than before I did it."  
"Who have you even been listening to talk about sex? Who even thinks like that?"  
"Uh. I dunno. Movies, I guess."  
"Those are human movies. Humans are fucking weird about sex."  
  
G: Bikeaby laughs a little and empties out the bowl on his bong. It's about burned out, shit, they've really gone through it.... It's because Jawbone is so big.  
"Man, I remember my first time. It sucked, we were such clumsy assholes."  
  
S: "You've actually gotten laid, Bikeaby? A Christmas miracle."  
"Says the guy who would probably procrastinate orgasm because it seemed like too much work."  
"You know what? I am too buzzed to argue with that." Sans submits the pizza order online. "Tell me about your first time then, B."  
  
G: "Ah, man, it was. I mean, I guess it wasn't awful? I don't know, I haven't really been described other monsters' first times." Bikeaby crumbles up a new bud and stuffs it into his bowl and pulls at the bong until the new batch lights decent. He coughs a little on how hard it hits, but it's good shit. "We fumbled around a lot and took like two hours and I couldn't get off at all."  
  
S: "I think I got off?" Sans isn't actually sure. "Uh, but. It might be different for me, I guess."  
"Nobody came my first time, either."  
"Jawbone, you....?"  
"Before you ask, I'm pretty much not into it. But I tried it to see what the hype was about."  
"Your verdict?"  
"Eh. Not bad, not the best thing I've ever experienced or anything."  
"Okay, but you also don't really...." Sans indicates Jawbone's lack of body.  
"And you called Bikeaby uncreative."  
  
G: "Oooh, shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttt!!!!!!!!! " Bikeaby slam dunks Sans right in the trash.  
Well, he doesn't, but he thinks about it really hard.  
  
S: "I'm cancelling your pizza order."  
"Don't you dare , I will bite your hand off."  
"I need that! For smoking this joint."  
  
G: Bikeaby flops again until his head plops into Sans' lap.  
"So? You think you gonna do it again?"  
  
S: "Your head weighs a ton, Bikeaby." Sans pats him once between the ears anyways. "Uh, but. Yeah, I think so. He said he'd be cool to do it again. I wanna do it again." He's singing his fingers... "Did it get better after the first time?"  
  
G: "Aw, man, that feels great.. " When was the last time Bikeaby got a good pet? Too long. "Yeah, it got a lot better. You figure out how the fuck to do things, you know. So you had a good time, what about the guy?"  
  
S: Sans idly scratches between Bikeaby's ears, fuck it. He's buzzed and getting higher and kinda cuddly.  
"I think he did? Uh." Sans realizes he isn't sure. "He's definitely more experienced than me. He said it'd been a pleasant time? And he'd like to do it again.... I dunno if he came or anything, I....don't even know if that's a thing...." He singed Sans' ceiling, though. Was that an orgasm?  
  
G: Bikeaby hums like he's thinking really hard about something. "Is he tall?" He's forgotten, he got pretty drunk that night..  
  
S: "Yeah. He's really tall." Sans wonders what would happen if he dropped what was left of this joint into Bikeaby's face..... That's rude, he shouldn't do that. "Why?"  
  
G: Bikeaby purrs a little, though it isn't clear exactly where it's coming from. "Dude, you got it bad. Tall older guys are your thing."  
  
S: "Oh my god." Sans is offended. "No it isn't."  
"Listen. This is science . We have a trend. We can make a chart. People Sans is into, tallness factor, age difference. All the. Variables."  
"That's not fucking science."  
"Anything is science if you write a report on it, kid."  
"And I'm not a kid!"  
  
G: "Jawbone's an old fart, don't let him get you riled up. Unless you're into that, in which case my roommate is in Waterfall for the weekend. Use his room."  
  
S: "No and no and no." Sans thumps Bikeaby between his ears.  
"Hey, this old fart isn't into thirsty skeleton kids."  
"What is your type, then?"  
Jawbone thinks for a while. "I like nice teeth."  
"That's not a type."  
"Excuse me for not having a specific fetish for tall old men."  
  
G: Bikeaby looks incredibly offended to have been thumped, so he steals what's left of Sans' roach in retaliation.  
"Much older men, at that. You got a weird thing going on, buddy, probably some weird psychological shit goin' on there."  
  
S: "Okay, one, Grillby's probably.....not that much older....." Actually, technically most everyone is much older than Sans, but.... How old is Grillby even?? Shit.... "Who are you to even talk? Who do you go after???"  
  
G: "People I don't babysit for."  
  
S: "What does that even mean ?" Weed's kicking in and Sans is perplexed by the complex mysteries of that statement.  
"It means you're a precocious little scamp going after monsters who are probably as old as your parents."  
"I don't have parents."  
"Oh shit. Now we're getting into the Freudian Shit."  
  
G: "You deserve the last hit for that, Sans, what a shame." Bikeaby draws on the joint until it very nearly burns his fingers before catching Sans behind his skull to pull him down.  
  
S: "Huh, wha-" Sans is caught off guard and only has a second to figure out what's going on before he's breathing in shared smoke, billowing from Bikeaby to him, and right back out through his eyes on the exhale. Holy shit.  
  
G: Bikeaby winds up laughing and coughing, rattling and dry from how parched he is. Oh god, when's the pizza getting here, holy shit.. "Even bastards know who their mom is."  
  
S: Sans is still sort of flustered and has to take a minute to process that.  
"I mean, I can't be the only monster without parents. Jawbone? I've never seen anyone else like you."  
"I was adopted. My moms are great. Elderly, but great."  
"Well shit."  
  
G: "We can't all pop fully-formed and self-sustaining out of the ground like you and doc." There's a knock on the door, and Bikeaby shoots up to answer it. The pizza guy doesn't look at all surprise to find a bunch of assholes in their underwear smoking weed and even tells Bikeaby to take his time when he realizes he no longer has a sense of numerical value and can't properly count money. After a minute or two, Bikeaby just shoves a whole pouch of gold at the delivery guy so they can stop waiting on the pizza.  
  
S: Jawbone immediately scarfs down like three slices while Sans takes what feels like a year removing all the anchovies and brussels sprouts and putting them on other slices. Worth it, when he takes a bite it is possibly the best pizza experience of his life. God, he's higher than he anticipated getting. "I'm gonna cry, I love this pizza so much."  
"Please don't cry, that's weird."  
"I'm metaphorically crying. Not literal."  
  
G: Bikeaby does it for him. "Oh my god this pizza is so good... I can't. I can't. _I can't._ I can't handle it."  
  
S: "Every fuckin time, Bikeaby?" Jawbone is clearly both used to and sick of this.  
"Are you gonna be okay??? Do you need...a hug or something?" Sans is a problem solver.  
  
G: "Some soda would be nice.." Bikeaby's ears are laid flat on his head, and he sniffles around the pizza he's eating. It's so good..  
  
S: "Uh." Figuring out someone else's kitchen seems like a daunting task, but Sans is probably the least high. He wobbles to his feet and miraculously finds the kitchen.  
It is probably like a decade before he returns with sodas, everything takes so long to find and he gets so lost, holy shit, he made it back, it's incredible.  
  
G: Bikeaby has done Sans the favor of picking all the toppings off his pizza and dropping them down his own mouth. God, this pizza is so good... "You're my hero. I love you, man, really."  
  
S: "First you blow smoke into my mouth with your mouth, then this, do you have something to tell me, Bikeaby?"  
"He's just too high, holy shit, please pour that whole soda directly into my mouth."  
"Seriously JB?"  
"100% serious, do it."  
"Uh, OK." Sans complies.  
  
G: "That's the only one I have, man! Pour it into my mouth!" Bikeaby makes a grab for it and winds up spraying soda in Jawbone's... everything. "Aw, man.."  
  
S: "What the fuck, Bikeaby!" Jawbone looks furious. "Awesome. Now I'm sticky ." He grumbles under his breath. "I'm using your shower. Thanks."  
Sans snorts a laugh, shaking sticky soda off his hands. Gross. "There's still like half a soda."  
  
G: Bikeaby takes it properly and dumps half of it into his mouth without choking. "Aw man, that's the stuff.."  
  
S: "Gross." Sans collapses back onto the beanbag. "You guys do this often? Just get stoned off your asses?" Not that Sans usually has time for this sort of thing.  
  
G: "It's my favorite pasttime, my skelebro." Even if it kinda makes him a little insufferable. But he's just supporting family business, ain't he?  
  
S: "Some hobby." Sans still can't talk shit, can he? Here he is getting just as high. "Come back 'n let me pet you again."  
  
G: Bikeaby rumbles a purr and half-crawls back over to Sans. "Aw shit, yeah, I am all for this." He flops into Sans' lap, going limp.  
  
S: Sans is actually kind of a cuddly motherfucker when it comes down to it. He scratches between Bikeaby's ears, around, sharp fingerbones idly dragging through fur. He kinda melts into the bean bag, eyes slipping closed. "You're alright for an asshole, you know."  
  
G: "That's why Ma kept me." Bikeaby curls up small as he can, Sans' isn't very warm. He'd kill for a warm spot right now, maybe next to a fire or just a space heater... "Oh my god, you are so good at this, holy shit."  
  
S: "I have all this untapped cuddling potential just going to waste, man." Sans rubs Bikeaby's ears between his thumb and forefinger. "I mean, I'm kinda bony, but I'm like an A-level headscratcher." He pauses. "Holy fuck, what if there were cuddling competitions? Why isn't that a thing?"  
  
G: Bikeaby purrs gravelly, his ear twitching from little ticklish spots. "There are... nose nuzzle competitions."  
  
S: "Okay but I don't have a nose. I'm a cuddler , not a nuzzler . We gotta... start it. Someone has to start it." Sans yawns. "Fuck, though, I can't win if I'm the founder?"  
  
G: "Sure you can, you just gotta be the best."  
  
S: "I guess I gotta bone up on my cuddling." Sans yawns and kicks off his slippers. Petting Bikeaby is, ironically, making him sleepy. "And set the rules so I'm not disqualified. From my own.... competition. For starting it. Yeah."  
  
G: Bikeaby reaches into his pocket and pulls out another baggie of weed, but he doesn't get much farther than opening it up to take a sniff. Soo good. "Hey, I'm here if you ever need practice."  
  
S: Does he really have even more weed ? How?? Sans snorts a laugh. Bikeaby's ears are sooo soft. "That's not weird to you? Me swinging by just to cuddle?" Honestly, though, it sounds- awesome . Maybe just because he's so high.  
  
G: "Shit, I grew up in a house with nine girls, cuddling was a major developmental factor for me."  
  
S: "Is it weird to be jealous?" Sans scoots into a more comfy position. He's so drowsy. "Not that my little bro minds a hug now or then, but he can't stay still long enough to nap next to." Papyrus is not ideal for bro cuddles. He's all elbows and knees and he squirms and he always talks right when Sans is about to fall asleep.  
  
G: Bikeaby stuffs one of his hands up under Sans' hoodie. Skeletons aren't very warm... but his jacket should hold heat alright. "Maybe your new beau will snuggle with you."  
  
S: "Uh, maybe." He's not sure Grillby is a cuddler. "I don't think he's a beau … more like, a friend who cleaned my room and slept with me and is cool to do it again, maybe? But we're not...dating. Also, he's like....busy." Sans stuffs his toes under Bikeaby. Taking off his slippers was necessary for comfort, but now his metacarpals are exposed.  
  
G: Bikeaby shifts around until he's comfortable again, but he just winds up stretching out of it. "Well, I'm always around for snuggling. And pillow forts. Holy shit, a pillow fort, oh my god..." Why didn't he think of that sooner?  
  
S: "Oh my god. You should have built a pillow fort." Sans yawns one more time. "We should... build a pillow fort. Right now." He makes no move to move. "Later. When I'm not this comfy."  
  
G: "Maybe Jawbone can build one around us.."  
  
S: "Shit yeah." Sans pulls his hoodie closer around both of them and flips his hood up. "Shiiit, yeah. He should do that.... right now. Is he still in the shower? Why do showers take that long? Maybe he's dead........"  
"I'm not dead." Jawbone pops in with a towel on his head. "And no."  
"Plllleaaaaaaase???"  
Jawbone makes a valiant effort by throwing two couch cushions on top of them.  
  
G: "Aw, man, that's the best. Thanks, buddy." Bikeaby purrs and curls up tight under the couch cushion. His toes still stick out, but he can't win all the time.  
  
S: Sans ends up half wedged under another one, toes stuffed under Bikeaby's ass, still half on the bean bag, tangled weirdly and honestly kind of uncomfortably. Fuck it. He sets an alarm on his phone to wake up before Papyrus usually does and take the quick way back home and conks the fuck out.

* * *

  
G: "You think I could draw a wiener on his face, or would he just wake up?"  
  
S: "Try it anyways. Worst case, you get kicked, and I get a good laugh out of it." Jawbone is eating cold pizza for breakfast. Not that there was much left, but anything's better than the empty stomach sick after smoking too damn much.  
  
G: Bikeaby has the marker uncapped and poised over Sans' face before he even considers the repercussions. "Nah, the doc'd be pissed, I don't wanna ruin the kid's chance." Reluctantly, he puts it away, gives Sans' shoulder a shake. "Hey, bro, time to wake up."  
  
S: "Whu?" Sans jolts up too fast, dizzy-headed and confused, trying to catch his bearings. Where is...? Bikeaby? "Shit, what time is it?" He scrambles for his phone.  
  
G: "Time for you to get a watch, dude." Aw snap.  
  
S: "Wow, so helpful." Sans checks his phone. Shit, later than anticipated. "I gotta go, my bro is about to leave for school, shit, why didn't my alarm go off?"  
  
G: Bikeaby pours himself a bowl of cereal and plops down on the floor to eat it. "Oh, I may have. Found your phone under my ass and turned the alarm off."  
  
S: "Fuck, Bikeaby, you asshole. " Sans isn't going to cuddle him anymore for that shit.  
"Alright, but your alarm is _obnoxious_ ."  
"So that I'll wake up!"  
"How do you wake up to Smash Mouth every morning and not want to murder your phone?"  
"Look, as much as I'd like to chatter, my bro doesn't know I was out of the house, and I really want to see him off to school, so. I'm leaving."  
  
G: "Sorry, dude!!" Bikeaby will make it up to him some other time, he guesses.  
  
S: "See ya- whenever- bye." Sans pops out of the front door and immediately cheats his way back into his room. He pops out of the door too quick, a little lightheaded. His spine hurts again... "Pap??? You left yet?"  
  
G: Papyrus peeks up at the second floor landing, halfway through putting on his shoes. "Sans? You're up early."  
  
S: God, he still reeks of weed. "Yeah, I uh - I wanted to walk you to school today, if you wanted. I.... probably have the day off work, or if I don't, I at least get to go in a little later." No telling how the Doc will be when he calls.  
  
G: "Okay, sure. You can walk me to school." He seems a little more concerned about getting his other shoes on. Have his feet grown?? These don't fit quite right anymore.. "But no puns! They're illegals on school grounds."  
  
S: "You're really expecting a lot of me." But Sans holds up his hand. "No puns, promise." Papyrus is really growing, isn't he? There's a good inch of ankle bone jutting out of his pants, and his shoes are kinda tight... Sans is going to need to buy him new ones soon. "Alright kiddo, ready? Got your homework and your lunch?"  
  
G: Papyrus holds both of them up, a sheaf of papers in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. There are hearts drawn on both, but the ones on the paper sack are eating sandwiches. "You smell awful !"  
  
S: Man, it really is that bad. "Oops. Crud. Must have fallen into the smelly sock dimension overnight. ....What's the matter, don't want your smelly brother walking you to school?"  
  
G: "Not really..." Papyrus is usually pretty honest, even if he tries to be nice about it. "Just don't walk too close.. and take a bath when you get home, sheesh!"  
  
S: "Yeah, yeah, I will." He at least quickly changes jackets and shirts. Those need to be.....fumigated. "Alright, let's get you to school then."  
  
G: The walk is pretty typical for Papyrus. Sans being here just makes him aware of how many people he says 'hello' to in the morning. A whole lot... but how can the town start its day with joy if they haven't been greeted by the Great Papyrus?  
  
S: Sans isn't super good at small talk, and it seems like most of Snowdin wants to talk to him and his brother. Mostly his brother. There are a couple Looks aimed his way for looking and smelling like he does this morning. Probably because he's an irresponsible guardian. Maybe just because not everyone can deal with weed smell. He greets the bunny that teaches Papyrus's class at the school door and hovers for an anwkward second. He had wanted to talk to them about Papyrus's grades and stuff and make sure he was doing okay.... but now he probably seems like a terrible guardian.  
  
G: "Good morning, Miss Angora!"  
"Good morning, Papyrus." The teacher is a fairly young bunny, probably not that much older than Sans. She does a pretty good job, but she does grt nervous sometimes.. "Oh, and.. Oh! You must be Sans, right?"  
  
S: "Thaaat, would be me." Sans waves sheepishly. Maybe she won't think he's the worst.  
"I guess that means you've heard about me? Only good things, I hope."  
  
G: "Of course! Papyrus has been telling us all about how you're a big-shot scientist." Miss Angora laughs and then looks a little funny. What... is that??  
  
S: Sans takes a cautious step back and hopes she doesn't notice. Shit.... "Yup, internship with the Royal Scientist and everything. Not, uh- not that I'm here to brag, I just wanted to check in and make sure Papyrus was doing OK. See if there's... anything we need to work on at home, you know?"  
  
G: Miss Angora tries to surreptitiously take a sniff of her cardigan. Well, it isn't her.. Oh.. Oh! Oh, okay. She brushes it off without worry. "Well, Papyrus has a lot of passion. Passion doesn't necessarily translate to good grades across the board." She quickly jumps to correct herself. "Not that he's doing badly, not at all!"  
  
S: Sans scuffs the toe of one shoe on the ground. "I mean, I know Pap is- he's really, really enthusiastic, and I know he's an ace at magic." He grins sheepishly. "If practice says anything. But I want to- you know, I care about grades, I'm-" He's holding up class, isn't he? "Just, uh. If there's anything he needs to work on, I want to help."  
  
G: "Well, I.." But the schoolbell cuts her off in the middle of her thought. Oh, darn.. "Are you free after class? We can have a little conference, just you and me so we can talk about it."  
  
S: "Uh, yeah! Yeah, I should be free, unless my boss calls me in. I'd be glad to." And he has time to.... go home and shower.... burn his clothes...... "Alright, Ma'am, I'll uh. I'll be glad to stop by after class."  
  
G: "It was nice meeting you! I'll see you soon!" Angora offers him a wave as she's turning into the school building.  
  
S: Sans gets home, dumps his clothes into the farthest corner of his room, and scrubs himself until he gets as much weed smell as he can off of him. And then it's just..... waiting until Gaster calls.  
  
G: It doesn't take Gaster long, actually, he simply waits to get the rest of the lab to work. "A little kitten told me you have been disregarding doctor's orders."  
S: Sans squirms. He knew it was coming, and all the same- he still feels that weird rush of guilt. "And here I was hoping BIkeaby forgot about me." Hearing Gaster say 'little kitten' is weird. Kind of enjoyable.  
  
G: Gaster winds up sighing into the receiver. "I suppose I can excuse it as pain management. What else have you been up to that would hinder healing?"  
  
S: " Uhm ." Sans crawls into his bed and pulls the blankets over his head. Phone conversation bubble. No lights filtering in from outside. "I...... uh." Shit, now he's flustered. "I'd check the screws for heat damage, if you check up on me, later, maybe." That's as much as he can say before he gets embarrassed.  
  
G: "Heat damage?" That's... incredibly confusing? What can Sans possibly have gotten up to? "Well, nevermind that. Any tenderness? Lingering pain? I can allow an extra day, if necessary."  
  
S: Sans hasn't really taken inventory of himself in a while.... He touches around the implant carefully, gingerly. It feels secure. He takes breath in sharply, between his teeth when he touches around the area, though. "It's sore. Not- terribly, when I move, but to the touch. Probably still healing, but...." But, well. "I'm not too good at sitting still."  
  
G: "Really? You do it an awful lot." It's just a simple observation, but it comes off as just a little reprimanding. "I suppose you can return to the lab tomorrow, we are mostly hunched over graphs anyway. But I urge you to get a full eight hours of sleep and two decent meals in."  
  
S: Sans suddenly feels. Dumb. Dumb, and guilty. He laughs, sheepish. He's still sort of.... poking the implant. It hurts..... he kinda can't stop. "Doctor's orders, those?"  
  
G: Gaster clicks his teeth together a few times. "Well, we've seen how closely you follow doctor's orders. So. Take this more as advice from someone who has experienced the same thing."  
  
S: Sans feels guilt creeping down his spine. "Alright, doc. I- I promise to try. No more- crazy wild behavior. I'll turn in early tonight. Eat real food. Be good for coming into the lab in the morning."  
  
G: "There's a good one. We will see you tomorrow, Sans."  
  
S: "Seeya tomorrow, doc." Sans hangs up before he can say anything else stupid. He maybe spends part of the day just..... fiddling with the implant. Way more than he should. Finally gets off his butt to walk to school to wait on Papyrus and his teacher.  
  
G: The school bell rings at three-thirty sharp, just as it does every day, and the students file out fast. Papyrus is talking to another student and nearly doesn't notice Sans into they run into him. "Brother? What are you doing here, you have a degree?"  
  
S: "I never got to go to elementary school, they're making me repeat it." He winks at Papyrus. "Where's your teacher, kiddo?"  
  
G: "I think she's still in the classroom, C2. Why, are you gonna ask her out?"  
  
S: "Nope." Sans snickers. "What if I did, though? I'd be like your step-teacher. I'd come to your class and kiss her on the face while you were in school." He's just antagonizing Papyrus now.  
  
G: The monster next to Papyrus laughs into their hands while Papyrus himself grimaces. "Eeewwwww, gross! I'm going home!"  
  
S: Sans laughs and ruffles Papyrus' skull before he taps on the classroom door. "Ma'am?" Her desk says 'Ms. Angora'. "Heya. It's uh- me! The other skeleton."  
  
G: "Sans!" Ms. Angora shuffles a few test papers into a drawer and sits in the big chair behind it. It rolls. "I remember you, you know, you don't hafta. Remind me."  
  
S: "Uh, you never know. I could be forgettable." He grins sheepishly at her. "Thanks for agreeing to meet with me."  
  
G: Angora snorts a little laugh, her fuzzy brows arching up. "Oh, no, you were pretty memorable this morning." Uh, change the topic.. "So, Papyrus!"  
  
S: Uh. He supposes he probably was.... "Papyrus, right. I just, uh. I don't always get to do his homework with him, so I wanna...make sure. He's doing okay."  
  
G: "Well, let's take a look! I should have his file.. pulled out somewhere." She shuffles around for a few seconds until she finds it. "Okay, so! Papyrus! Very enthusiastic, very eager to learn, but I sometimes wonder if he fully grasps some of the things I'm teaching."  
  
S: Sans scratches at his jaw. "Is it any one subject? I can maybe try to help with homework more.... I know he's kinda. He can't sit still a lot, sometimes."  
  
G: "Well, that's just the thing. Papyrus is a model student! He is very attentive, far less interruptive than many of his peers, he always turns in his homework." Angora pulls out a grade sheet. There's a B in there, an A under magics. "He tries very, very hard. So I started looking deeper into it. Sans, you're a scientist, do you know what dyslexia is?"  
  
S: "Uh." Sans scratches the back of his skull. "Unfortunately, I highly specialized in theoretical physics, so I only know about as much as your average monster. Isn't that a reading issue? Papyrus seems okay at reading..."  
  
G: Angora nods a little, "Yes, he is alright with reading. But dyslexia can also affect how someone processes and stores information, and it is occasionally linked with certain attention disorders." She spreads her paws out towards Sans. "Not that I'm necessarily saying Papyrus has something like ADD, that would take a specialist to make sure. But I think he is so attentive because he must try that extra bit harder in order to understand some things."  
  
S: "Oh." Sans picks at the edge of her desk where some kid had long ago stuck a sticker and only white residue remains. He falls quiet trying to scrape it off. "He never... told me he wasn't getting stuff." But things sort of add up when Sans thinks about it. Papyrus has always had way more trouble with the newspaper puzzles, hasn't he? And remembering puzzle instructions.... "Is that the kind of thing... I'd need to take him to someone for? Like, a doctor?"  
  
G: "Well, if you wanted a professional opinion. But from what I understand it isn't so much something you would need a doctor for. Just a.. maybe a different way of thinking." Miss Agora pulls out another set of papers. "I'm actually glad you dropped by today, Sans, I'd like to ask you if it's alright for me to try something with Papyrus. To see if it makes things a little easier for him."  
  
S: "Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure- what were you thinking of?" It's not that Sans particularly babies Papyrus. In all honesty, he could probably stand to take better care of him. It's just...he never really ever wants anything to be hard or upsetting for his brother. Ever. "If it works better for him I'd be cool for about anything you wanted to try."  
  
G: "I have heard that little tweaks can help immensely, so I thought maybe I can start giving him special tests. Nothing hugely different, just a few font changes here and there, and I thought perhaps I could order audio of some of our textbooks and reader novels. I just... don't want him to feel as if I am talking down to him." Miss Angora smiles a little. "So I'm hoping you will help me smooth that over with him."  
  
S: "Yeah, of course. Pap is- he's really bright. And strong. He'll probably think we're going easy on him..." Sans finishes peeling residue off the desk and stuffs his hand in his pocket. "But I think I can help. The Great Papyrus is all about challenging himself, right? I'll be sure he knows it's so he can pick up even more."  
  
G: Miss Angora perks up a little, her ears lifting. "Oh! He does that at home, too?" Well, she guesses it... doesn't really matter. "Uh. Yes! Thank you for meeting with me, Sans, this really helps a lot."  
  
S: "Yeah, no problem." Sans grins at her again. "You seem like a really great teacher. I mean- my brother is amazing. But I think most people would probably just take that at face value. It means... a lot, when a mentor wants to help you get better, you know?" Like Gaster does for Sans....  
  
G: "Papyrus is a wonderful student, I want to do what I can to help him where he needs it."  
  
S: "Means a lot." Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets and winks. "Anyways, I gotta get going. Thanks for- you know. This. You ever wanna talk about Papyrus's schoolwork again, or anything, let me know, yeah?"  
  
G: Miss Angora gives him a wave as he's leaving, smiling. "Yes, thank you! I'll keep you in the know, Sans!"

* * *

  
S: Sans stops by Grillby's on the way home to pick up food to go and say hey. He....hasn't, since yesterday morning, and he wants to make sure everything is cool.  
  
G: "Sans, good afternoon. The usual?" The bar isn't very busy at the moment, just a few flies hanging around, so Grillby settles by Sans' usual seat.  
  
S: "You betcha. I'm supposed to eat two meals today and I need to make up for lost time after Papyrus cooked yesterday." Well, he did eat practically a whole pizza in the a.m. hours.... "How's it going?"  
  
G: "Much the same, Mondays are never very busy. I'll be right back." Grillby goes into the back of the restaurant to prepare Sans' order and returns a few minutes later to hand it over. "Don't you usually work the whole week?"  
  
S: "Normally." And half the weekend too, most times. "I've got the day off for further recovery. I sorta got high as fuck last night so I.....probably need it." He snorts and takes a huge bite of burger.  
  
G: Grillby flickers a little in concern. "Ah.. I certainly hope you aren't planning on anything else to prolong that."  
  
S: Sans looks sheepish. "I didn't even plan to get high, I just made poor choices." Like he's so good at doing. "Doc found out, anyways, and I won't have anyone to smoke with tonight with the guys at the lab. So I'll pretty much....have to be good, I guess. What a shame."  
  
G: "A real shame, I'm sure."  
  
S: "Unless you wanna be bad with me." It's the laziest come on Sans has attempted to date, and without much attempt at that.  
  
G: "Sans," Grillby scolds.  
  
S: "Worth a shot." Sans grins at him. "I know, I know. You're a busy guy, burning the candle at both ends. Burning the midnight oil. Et cetera. And I'm supposed to sleep 8 hours tonight."  
  
G: Grillby flickers again, shaking his head. This is ridiculous.. "I certainly wouldn't want to go against the direct order of the royal scientist."  
  
S: "What, afraid you'll get him hot under the collar?" Sans really needs to stop. He shoves a few fries in his mouth.  
  
G: "No, I simply trust that he knows what he's talking about in regards to.. whatever that thing is he implanted in you."  
  
S: Yeah, probably. Sans dumps too much ketchup onto what's left of his fries and eats them faster. "You sound kinda like you disapprove of it." Not like Sans didn't come in a big wreck about it night before last...... but he feels better now, so it's fine.  
  
G: Grillby clears away a couple plates to wash later. "You did seem to be on the verge of tears when you came to me about it."  
  
S: "That was just- I was just a mess cause he touched me a lot and I'm a sexually repressed 20something, absolutely." Sans knows that's probably bullshit.  
  
G: "That's.... forward of you."  
  
S: "Yeah.... probably oversharing." But maybe Grillby buys it. "I guess I should. Go. Papyrus is probably waiting....."  
  
G: "Ah." Grillby holds up a finger to tell Sans to wait and dips down behind the bar. He comes back with a foam cup and a lid and gets to shaking up a milkshake.  
  
S: That gets Sans to grinning again. "Thanks, G." He piles his own leftovers into a to go box for later. "Hey.... I don't know if I've really said this, but. Thanks."  
  
G: "It's my pleasure, Sans. Look after yourself."  
  
S: "An attempt will be made, at least."  
  
G: "That is... an accomplishment for you, I take it."  
  
S: "Better than usual, at least!" Sans is awfully cheery about it..... "Goodnight, Grillby."  
  
G: "Goodnight, Sans. If you find yourself healed and bored, I'm always around."  
  
S: Sans would flush if he had skin. Instead runs a hand over the back of his skull. "Thanks, G."  
  
He brings his leftovers home and Papyrus his milkshake. He should probably talk to him about the school thing....  
  
G: Papyrus is spread out on the floor doing homework, the eraser end of his pencil looking a little worse for wear. The little jester monster is close by, their own homework in their lap. It looks pretty cozy.  
  
S: "Hey kids." Sans plops the milkshake down in front of Papyrus. "Sorry, I didn't get anything for your study buddy, I should've."  
"S'alright, my mom sent me with snacks." They shake a sandwich baggie full of cereal at Sans.  
"Sweeet. You're prepared." Sans plops down on the floor next to Papyrus. "How's the studying going?"  
  
G: "I'm saving the fun homework for after I get through with the unfun homework." Maths, Papyrus hates maths. He understands them well enough, he just gets so bored with them.  
  
S: "All homework is _unfun,_ " complains the jester kid, but they're still dutifully scratching away on their homework.  
"So listen, I talked to your teacher a little today." Sans swipes a bit of cereal out of Papyrus' study buddy's bag, ignoring their 'hey!'  
  
G: Papyrus lifts his head from his homework for the first time and actually notices the milkshake. Oh! "You didn't ask her out, did you?" They're just as good in takeaway cups..  
  
S: "Nope, I decided to have mercy on you." Sans picks at the carpet. "I did find out something neat, though."  
  
G: "Well, she is a pretty great teacher. I find out neat things all the time."  
  
S: "Yeah, so I found out." Sans tries to decide how to phrase it. "You know how I'm not good at magic most of the time?"  
  
G: "You're getting better!" And it's not even true that Sans isn't good at magic. He just... doesn't have any. "Our training is going very well!"  
  
S: "Right, you're doing a really good job training me. So- I was thinking, your teacher might have some more specialized training for you in some different stuff. So you get stronger."  
"Papyrus is already good, though." Sans glances over at the other kid and makes a note to send them home with cookies, they're a good one.  
"Well, I know, but imagine how much cooler he can be with specialized training."  
  
G: Papyrus sips on his milkshake until it's empty, leaving only the bubbly empty sound of nothing left in the cup.  
"Just because I'm good doesn't mean I can't be better! And that's the next step to being the best!" He nods in determination, scratching his chin. "The Great Papyrus accepts this challenge of special training! "  
  
S: Pap is great like that. Pretty much anything that's a challenge, he'll rise to. Sans picks up his empty cup to take to the trash.  
"Awesome. I can't wait, I already know you're gonna be blowin me away with how good at everything you get. And I'm already pretty dang impressed with you." Sans honestly is. He never even knew Papyrus could be having trouble; his little brother works so hard. Sans kind of wishes he had even half that motivation.  
  
G: Papyrus flushes a little, but he laughs a small _nyeheh_ under his breath. He gets praise from his brother as often as Sans is around, but it's rare enough that it still feels nice. Tingly. "Do you think any of the other students with have special training, too?"  
  
S: "Yeah, I want special training!" The jester kid kicks their feet, excited to be included again after the brotherly bonding moment passes.  
"Miss Angora is pretty good, I don't doubt she'll have all kinds of things tailored special for some students."  
  
G: "And so long as it isn't top secret, I can share the wealth of information after I master it!"  
  
S: "Well." Sans plops down on the couch. "It's more like you're learning the same stuff, but tailored exactly to how it would be best for The Great Papyrus."  
  
G: Papyrus hums to himself, "I see. Specialized tests to further access my mental acuity. Nyehehe, this is sure to be interesting!"  
  
S: "You got it. Unlock all that knowledge." Sans yawns. "And I'll be here right now, in case you have any....questions......" He's already dozing off. "Bout math. I'm good at that. Stuff."  
  
G: "I have it handled, brother! The Great Papyrus always completes his homework.." Even if it is pretty boring.  
  
S: "Good job, proud'you." Sans conks out on the couch.  
  
G: Eventually Papyrus gets finished with his boring homework, and he and Nacarat exchange new magic spells and patterns they've thought up. He know he can't haul Sans up the stairs... so Papyrus winds up throwing a blanket over him as a goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dyslexic Papyrus was a headcanon that, once tripleCrocodilian brought up, I absolutely couldn't let go of. To me it seems canon.  
> discuss more headcanons and why Bikeaby is such a loser with me at mister13eyond.tumblr.com.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans trains with the blaster, and the lab team begins construction.

"Sans. I trust you are much better this morning." Gaster actually lifts his head from his charts in order to greet him. It's an odd stage right now, caught in between research and doing something with it.

S: Sans is, in fact, better. Especially after conking out for god knows how long yesterday. He takes his seat at the table and starts pulling out papers and charts. "You know I am. What's the agenda today, doc?" He waves at Jawbone, Bikeaby and Kenny.

G: Bikeaby makes a kissy face at Sans in lieu of waving. Weirdo..  
"We are doing a few comparisons and then, hopefully, coming together to determine where to go next. Now that we have data, we can begin to actually move forward."

S: "Fantastic." Sans actually feels the excitement creeping up his spine of making significant progress. Things are moving in every project.... Figuring out, maybe fixing the timeline. Hell.... figuring out, maybe fixing Gaster himself, if his thesis goes alright. Making the world- and the people who matter in it- better. Without suffering.  
That being said, the grunt work is hard.  
Spirits are still pretty high, though, so he chats with the others as he works. Even Bikeaby and his weird kissy faces.

"Oh, come on. We all know that the human word came first, and we were labeled monsters later." Jawbone gets really passionate about debates like this. He's not even a linguist.  
"Yeah, but c'mon. If that was the case, shouldn't there be an ancestral word for monster? No way. We named ourselves that, and humans co-opted the word and gave it negative connotations."

G: "Humans named themselves humans because they are fairly standard in size, appearance, ability.. et cetera. Why would we name ourselves, all of us, monsters given how varied we are? Humans created a label for us."  
Bikeaby scoffs and flaps a hand at Kenny. "Okay, but you guys are only looking within the confines of one language. Humans have hundreds of different ones up on the surface, and we have no way of knowing how all of those could label us."  
  
S: "So where are the monsters who speak those languages? Like." Sans waves a hand. "We're super varied in shape, appearance. You'd think we probably all created these shapes to adapt to different conditions, right? Like, I know we're made more of magic and intent than natural selection, but we probably lived all over the surface. You think we developed one language after being locked underground, or monsters ever had our own language? Or varied ones?"  
"Well, there's no telling what our population was like before the war. Could have been enormous. Could have been there still weren't a lot of us. We're kinda fragile, you know?"  
"Maybe that's something to think about." Now Sans is getting excited. "If we get this thing going, and we can go back far enough, we can delve into generations of history and culture we've lost, right?"  
  
G: "Well, aren't we working with, like, a living relic?"  
"Bikeaby, I resemble that comment."  
Bikeaby blows a raspberry and taps his pen against his chin. "I'm just sayin, if we have any questions about the past we might should try asking you. "  
  
S: "No way, we're talking way before the war. Even the King himself doesn't remember that far back, I mean- look at the history books, Asgore was born near the start of the war with humans." Jawbone highlights another data section.  
"Things might've changed a lot between the time we got to the underground and now, though. It's been.... a long time. Maybe the Doc does know how monsters have changed. Do you?"  
  
G: "Hmm?" Gaster lifts his head to look around the rest of the lab. Oh, they're all staring at him rather than working.. "That isn't my particular area of study."  
"Come on, you gotta have something."  
The doctor sighs, his pupils rolling off to the side. "And what, perhaps, do you want to know?"  
  
S: "Well." Sans is curious. "Did you know any monsters who had used to live on the surface? Did you know any who talked about what it was like?"  
"I mean, we have plenty of human culture to tell us about some of it..."  
"Yeah, but like. What it was like for _monsters_ . What it was like being a monster up there."  
  
G: Gaster taps his fingertips against against his teeth while he thinks. Oh, most of the ones from that time are quite dead..  
"You have to understand, I think, that most of monsterkind was still quite traumatized by what had happened. Even the king is not fully aware of what we have lost, he was but a child at the time of the war." He sighs lowly. "Though his parents knew quite a bit. They were more concerned with keeping their kingdom alive, however, than immediately trying to return to the surface."  
  
S: "The history books say that monsters were on the verge of extinction, I know." Jawbone talks around a pen as he jots down a few figures of note. "That was generations ago. We're definitely not on the verge, now."  
"No, now overcrowding is becoming a problem." Sans is still curious. Gaster must have experienced so much in all this time.... "I heard when we really started planning to get back out was after the crown prince died." Which was within the lifetime of some monsters that still live. "The Capital is huge, I can't imagine how long it must have taken to build...."  
  
G: "It took less time as our population started growing again. Royal decrees and the like, you know."  
  
S: "My moms talked a little bit about that." Jawbone spits out the pen. "Required community service and stuff. They were still young when that got phased out, though."  
"Required community service?"  
"Yeah. Every monster had to spend a certain amount of time developing the Underground. My moms' parents were pretty much the last generation that did that, though. By then, it was more about expanding outside of New Home, it was getting too dense already."  
"Ah." Sans just gets more curious every new fact that comes up, honestly.  
  
G: "Population pushes, as well. For a while, monsters were royally encouraged to create more little monsters."  
Bikeaby tosses a pencil into the air and catches it in his face-hole. "I'd be all over that, hell yeah."  
"After the Core was built and mostly stabilized, things became a lot better for nearly everyone. We have been improving ever since."  
  
S: " Mostly stabilized?" Sans doesn't mean to sound skeptical. Just... that's not particularly encouraging.  
Jawbone seems stuck on something else. "Bikeaby, there's no way in hell you should have kittens. Royally mandated or not. What would you feed them? Weed?"  
  
G: Bikeaby scoffs and throws a paper ball at Jawbone. "Hey, doc said it was royally encouraged to make babies, not that I'd actually have to."  
"You don't get grants just for having sex, Bikeaby."  
"Shit, they'd _pay_ me, too? I'm livin' in the wrong era, my man."  
  
S: "Okay, but your dumb ass wouldn't be able to scam the system. It's pop em out or pay up, B."  
Sans snorts. "Unless you document all your attempts. Wanna send your sex tapes to Asgore as proof you're trying, Bikeaby? Really apply for that grant money."  
"Oh my god, why."  
  
G: "Everyone. Stop." Gaster holds up a hand and uses the other the rub at his orbital socket. "This is too far, and I am having none of it."  
"I could send you my sex tapes, too, doc."  
"Dear god."  
  
S: "I think this is why talking while working is discouraged. Because some assholes have to make it about sex tapes."  
"Uh." Sans re-keys a line of data. "This is a recurring problem, then? Continuous sex tape talk?"  
"It had better not be."  
"Well, on the bright side. I think I've logged every damn one of the sheets you've given me." Sans spins his laptop around to show the finished file.  
  
G: Gaster peers at it for a moment before nodding. "Excellent. I'll run everything through a few filters, see what I can find. Reconvene in half an hour."  
"Awesome, that gives me way more time to discuss my lighting choices for Kitty Does the Capital."  
  
S: Jawbone bonks his forehead into the table. "I'm lacing your weed with poison, Bikeaby. Just- telling you now, so you know when you die it's because I hate you, and not because of your own incompetence."  
"I...am getting coffee." Sans sticks by the coffee maker while Jawbone goes out to get fresh air.  
  
G: "You know, weed isn't the only thing I'm about," but no one is really listening to him anymore.

* * *

  
Thirty minutes actually turns out to be forty-five, but that's a fairly standard thing for Gaster. He is fastidious, always, and that has done him a lot of good as royal scientist. When he does come back, it's with a sheaf papers that he immediately begins tacking up on a board. The graphs are in several different colors, all corresponding to the different resonances of each human soul collected. Makes it easier to track. Easier to manipulate, when the time comes. Maybe.  
  
S: There's a while for everyone to study the various legends, the different labels, and Sans is one of the first ones to get an idea. He digs through his own workstation until he finds the chart of readings he took off Gaster for his own study. Comparing humans to humans, it's easy to pin down how they're similar, but looking at how they're different from monsters....  
"Holy shit, I think we're onto something."  
  
G: "And here I thought I was the least bit impressive.." Gaster traces over graphs, those that correspond with specific humans and their supposed matches in his own data. Low, across the board, though the humans have such dramatic spikes.  
Kenny pulls up a chair so they might get a closer look, squinting up at the long pages. "These are your readings, doctor?"  
"Yes, recent. Very recent. We really do not compare, do we? Not to real flesh and blood."  
  
S: "I'd warrant you'd be one of the strongest out of us," Jawbone ventures, "god knows at least in base measurements, but compared to what even the weakest human has..."  
"But we do have the same aspects." Sans is strangely excited. "Look, there's a corresponding point on the Doctor's sheet for almost every point."  
"Almost. But not every."  
"That'd be it, then, wouldn't it??" Sans is suddenly thrilled. "What isn't on Dr. Gaster's sheet, and is on the humans'."  
  
G: Gaster can identify it on every chart, though he has no name to put to it. He swipes his palm over his teeth, and the scrape of bone on bone is strange and harsh. "We can work with that."  
"If we can find the difference, that means we can isolate it. And if we can isolate it.. maybe we can recreate it." Kenny is smiling. Kenny never smiles..  
  
S: It's a quiet euphoria that builds until nearly all of them are grinning. Even Jawbone. Sans draws a big, highlighter-bright smiley face around the aspect on each chart.  
"We'll need to zone in on this, analyze it further." Jawbone is pacing, but it's different than his usual frustrated pace. Almost manic. "But now we know exactly what aspect to dissect. It's right there. We can figure out how to recreate it, and we can use it. Synthesizing it can't be impossible...."  
  
G: "Fuck, we're finally onto something, aren't we?" Bikeaby seems dumbfounded, but he is smiling just as all of them are. This is... incredible.  
"Amazing what a bit of hard work and determination can do, isn't it?" Gaster is frowning, thought it's clearly in concentration rather than any anger or disappointment. "Progress, my lovelies, progress. We need materials, I will put in a requisition order. Ah, but first we must-" He's talking to himself again.  
  
S: Sans starts idly gathering things, mostly caught up in excitement and kind of overwhelmed.  
"Yeah, until we've got the right items we can't start the physical isolation, but."  
"But it should move quickly." Jawbone digs around in his drawer for a twinkie. "I'm celebrating. B, you want one? What about you, Kenny?"  
  
G: "Hey, I want... Hey, wait, those are mine anyway!" Bikeaby seems upset, so he grabs two instead of just one. "I scrounged through a whole bunch of garbage to find a perfect box of Twinkies."  
"You should have stayed there, seeing as that's where you belong.."  
"Oh look at Kenny, takin' one of my snacks after they insulted me."  
  
S: "I'm gonna be a heathen and say I want the chips, anyways." Sans gives his twinkie to Bikeaby in a rare moment of kindness. Three for Bikeaby. He better let Sans cuddle him later.  
Jawbone tosses his twinkie up, catches it in his mouth and eats the whole thing, wrapper and all.  
"Come on, it's a special occasion. And we had to hear you talk about your sex tape. Be generous."  
  
G: Gaster actually breaks out of his muttering to throw all of them a dirty look.  
"No more sex tapes. Or talk of sex tapes. I am banning it in my lab."  
Kenny, at least, looks very relieved for that. "Doctor, is there anything I can help with?"  
"I need. Time. To draw out some adjustments. A few hours."  
  
S: Sans actually puts up a sticky note: 'SEX TAPE TALK BANNED'. That's it, though. He won't keep going.  
Which.... leaves a few hours to sit around. Sans crams chips in his mouth while he watches the Doc retreat to work on things.  
"Everyone wanna go grab lunch or something?"  
  
G: Kenny winds up close by, peeking at Gaster every now and then through the door of his private office.  
"Is all you do eat, Sans?" But it doesn't actually sounds as if they're scolding him or anything.  
"He bones people, too."  
"I swear to god, Bikeaby-"  
" _Hey,_ I didn't say he recorded it!"  
  
S: "Ya bone one guy, one time, and then 'boning people' suddenly becomes a thing you do . Make me sound like a hussy, why don't you."  
"Nah, I'm with Kenny. All you do is eat."  
"See, that I can accept."  
  
G: "So long as it gets you mooches out of my stash, jeeze."  
Kenny balls up the crinkly wrapper from the twinkie they ate and tries to toss it into Bikeaby's face. It bounces off his forehead instead. "Maybe don't stash your stuff in the community drawer."  
"That's not the community drawer. "  
"Sure it is. That's where I put the stuff I want to share."  
"You don't have anything in there!"  
"Yeah, exactly."  
  
S: Jawbone rolls his eyes. "Aside from the Twinkies, i bought most of that. From the store. Like an adult. And I let you squabbling runts eat it and I haven't even bitten one of your hands off or anything."  
"See, you were talking, but most of what I heard was 'grr grr I am old'."  
  
G: Bikeaby is very close to retaliating, but he's interrupted when the door between all of them and Gaster slams closed. Oh.. Well, then. "I guess we better keep it down for the doc, huh?"  
"Yeah, maybe. Maybe going to lunch isn't a bad idea." Kenny looks a little guilty, even though they're smiling a little under it.  
  
S: "You guys are treating me, right?" Sans pats Jawbone on top of his head.  
"Hell no."  
Sans sighs. "Fiiine, then whaddaya say we hit up Grillby's?" Grillby won't make him pay at least....  
  
G: "Sans, is that the only place you eat? No wonder you're big-boned.."  
Kenny scoffs and pops Bikeaby on the arm. "All you do is eat, smoke, and try to get other people in on it."  
  
S: "I'm naturally big-boned, thanks. I popped up- out of the earth, or wherever it is we come from- already huge." Sans just likes food a lot. "Where would you suggest, if not, huh?"  
Jawbone snorts. "I usually cook and don't shovel junk in my mouth."  
"You gonna cook for all three of us?"  
"Nope."  
"Well then. B? Ken? You guys like anywhere in particular?"  
  
G: Bikeaby shrugs and props his feet up on their worktable. "I have cheese puffs here, why would I need to go anywhere else?"  
"I know a nice place in the Capitol."  
"Vegetarian?"  
"N.. No? Do you think I'm a vegetarian?"  
  
S: "Dude, Kenny ate a burger at Grillby's with me, they can't be a vegetarian."  
" _Chicken isn't vegan_ ?" Jawbone snorts.  
"Okay, but- how pricey are we talking? I'll go to the capitol, but you have to remember I'm a starving student with a poor hungry lil' bro."  
  
G: "Why are you starving?? Manage your funds better, dude." Bikeaby is unphased. Kenny just rolls their eyes and shakes their head.  
"It's just a little sushi place, it isn't very expensive. But if you need, I wouldn't have a problem covering you."  
  
S: "Oh man, sushi." Jawbone lifts a big eyebrow. "I love sushi. Let's go there."  
"I can....probably get myself." Sans still places a hand on Kenny's little head. "Sure, why not. Let's go there, I'm starved. And starving. Because I'm an intern." Sans exaggerates, really. He mostly is fine. Mostly. So long as he doesn't need to have anything left over at the end of the month.  
  
G: "Yeah yeah, we get the joke."  
The place Kenny takes them is small but nice, clean. Everything smells like miso, and there's a long pool of water behind the front counter. Eight arms stick up out of it and seem to be doing most of the kitchen work..  
  
S: Sans reads through the menu and then looks at it again over Jawbone's shoulder. Temple? Over Jawbone's....face. "What are you getting?"  
"Two rolls and miso. Probably a mushroom and cream cheese roll and a snail and crunchy crab one."  
"Huh." Sans has never actually eaten sushi.... "I'll get that too." He sets down his menu. "I can't help but be kind of excited. About- all of this. It's like we're finally getting somewhere."  
  
G: A squid boy younger than all of them takes their orders and gets back to the kitchen. The eight arms work the new order seamlessly into their routines.  
"Moods are definitely better in the lab."  
"You mean the doc is happier." Bikeaby takes a bottle of soy sauce and pours exactly four drops into his glass of water.  
"Well, there's nothing wrong with Gaster being happier."  
  
S: "I mean, it's good that he's happier, right? He's been so. I dunno."  
Jawbone scoffs. "He's been an asshole, that's what. I mean, I'm as glad as anyone he's in better spirits. Let's just hope it's not back to the same old bullshit after the shine wears off this one."  
"After this one, we'll save monsterkind .There won't be time to fall into that."  
  
G: Their miso arrives steaming, and Kenny seems very excited about it. "Oh gosh, I need this.." The conversation goes on around them, though.  
"If it takes us any amount of time to make progress when we're so close, the doc won't take long to start getting antsy. That's just how he is."  
  
S: "That isn't always how it was," Jawbone notes, but he busies himself sipping miso.  
"Yeah..." Sans fidgets with his chopsticks. "You ever wish it was still like that?"  
"All the time."  
"Maybe we can go back."  
  
G: "Go back before everything?" Kenny blows on their soup a little before taking a sip. They're pretty susceptible to heat. "I wonder what that means for us. Like... are we physically going back? Or... would it be like. We're just dialing the clock back so we get another chance?"  
"If we're just dialing back, there's nothing to say things wouldn't happen exactly the same way. We gotta find the limitations on whatever this stuff is humans have and... test."  
  
S: "If we can isolate it, we can recreate it, we can test the hell out of it." Jawbone slurps up the last of his soup. "I don't think it'd just be dialing back the clock, though. Or else humans wouldn't do it so much, would they? Like- I think they have to at least remember last time."  
Sans watches the squid kid bring over their plates and grins at him, waits till he's clear to talk again. "They do remember. When- Gaster collected that last human- they knew how many times it was."  
  
G: "How many times they'd fought him? That.. so that means the human is only travelling in relation to themselves, not in relation to... everything. I mean, probably."  
"No, that makes sense." Bikeaby picks up a section of sushi with his fingers and pops it into his mouth. He talks around it. "Or else they'd just go back to before they wound up here."  
  
S: "So." Sans speculates as he pokes at one of his sushi rolls with a chopstick. How does he eat this? "If we were to go back, we'd remember, but maybe everyone else wouldn't?" But that also means.... "Then again, we could probably go back farther if we're synthesizing whatever ability it is. We wouldn't be limited by things like a human body."  
  
G: Bikeaby passes the soy sauce to Kenny and finally snaps his sticks apart. Aw, man, they didn't break perfect... "Magic is more fluid than water.. There's no telling what we can do until we try it for real."  
"I'm just hoping we're heading in the right direction."  
"You worried we aren't?"  
"I mean, yeah." Kenny's little hands are too small for their chopsticks, so they have to just use their fingers. "We're discovering new things about humans. That doesn't necessarily mean the end of our work is at hand."  
  
S: Jawbone just eats his sushi rolls in full bites. He still takes his time, though. "I mean, it could be that it takes us somewhere else. We learn more from there, we keep going. Keep on getting new information and never reach the end..."  
"Really?" Sans follows Bikeaby's lead and dips one in soy sauce and eats it in one bite. Oh, hey, that's not bad... "Is it strange not to completely hate that possibility?"  
"You just say that cause you're young and thirsty."  
  
G: "There's a question," Kenny pipes in.  
"Whoa, where is this conversation about to go?"  
"What? Oh, no, not that. What happens to us? The humans exist in a time that is... farther along than ours. Did they age by a few hours? If we try to go back before the war, well. None of us existed before the war.."  
  
S: "Right, so would we physically go back, or just - erase the 'us' that physically exists?"  
"Maybe we'd just relive our entire lives, but with memory of how it went before."  
"But what if it created circumstances where we may not be born? All of our parents met because of being in the underground."  
"Aside from those of us that popped up spontaneously." Sans takes another bite of sushi.  
  
G: "Obviously the answers lie in testing, so... I don't know, we'll have to wait and see." Bikeaby seems a little nervous about the whole conversation, the fur on the back of his neck standing up.  
  
S: "For once, I'm with Bikeaby." Jawbone licks all the spicy mayo off his plate in one swoop. "We can run through the theoretical shit in the lab. Let's just relax for now."  
"You got it." Sans is good at that. "Anyone watch any good movies lately?"  
  
G: "Who has time for that? " Kenny only got one roll, but they're having trouble finishing it. They push the plate a little closer to Bikeaby to share.  
"Apparently there's this one spot close to the Old Home ruins where my buddy managed to get human undernet, and he downloaded a shit ton of human movies that we're gonna binge over the weekend."  
  
S: "What seriously? You'd better share, I'm out of movies on Undernetflix." Sans pokes his chopstick into the green paste on his plate and tastes it. Ach- hot hot hot-!  
  
G: "Yeah, actually, shouldn't you be telling the film associations?"  
"Well, I don't know if he's full of shit yet, so..."  
  
S: Sans is busy shoving ginger into his mouth to try and soothe the burn. Jawbone snorts.  
"I had someone claim something like that and it turned out he got one big file that was just Die Hard like- forty five times. Total bust. Who even likes Die Hard?"  
  
G: "Literally no one likes Die Hard."  
Bikeaby shrugs and takes the last piece of Kenny's sushi. They don't seem to mind. "I'm just relaying what he said to me, I don't really have a ton of faith in it, either."  
  
S: "Look." Sans is finally over scorching his mouth. A full glass of water later.... "It's still kinda exciting, if there are any new ones you gotta invite me over to see them. Like- gotta. I'm hankering for a new movie."  
"Honestly what's the point? I'll just watch Scott Pilgrim again." Jawbone loves Scott Pilgrim.  
  
G: No one is surprised.

* * *

  
They all pay their separate tickets and head back to the lab, and Gaster is waiting for them with several drawings and charts marked out on his blackboard.  
"What's up, doc? Got something for us?"  
The doctor makes a few last notes before flipping the board over. The start of his train of thought is apparently there.. "We need an extractor." He taps his chalk against his sketches.  
  
S: Sans notes the shape immediately on the extractor, the familiarity of it. He looks over to see if any of the others notice, but aside from a slight furrow in Jawbone's brow, he doesn't see it. Well. He starts photographing the sketches on the board with his phone, for archival.  
"We'll need to draw up more refined blueprints." Jawbone is talking around a pen, already making notes. "We'll need a grant from the King." Like he's ever turned Gaster down for a grant, though.  
  
G: "Already written out and sent in." Jeeze, Gaster got a lot of shit done while they were gone.. "So long as no one sees fit to report on me again."  
Oof. Kenny and Bikeaby both flinch a little, though Kenny seems to be the only one brave enough to address it.  
"We're in the game, doctor, nothing funny. We are as eager for this as you are, you know."  
  
S: "No one wants to stop this. We're all for it." Jawbone sounds certain, although sometimes Sans wonders.  
There's a lot to be done in the meantime. The requisition is in for the grant, but there are blueprints to be drawn up, measurements to take, theoretical figures to work out. Enough to keep them busy.  
  
G: Gaster hums a note that sounds... slightly unbelieving, but he doesn't fight it.  
"Our next steps are converting the sensor on the chronoscope into a sensor for whatever this thing is that humans possess. Bikeaby, you and Jawbone are on that. I want breakdowns of the changes we have to make in my office by tomorrow evening."  
"Got it, boss."  
"Kenny, I want every step you took in order to make your machine, your entire machine, floor up. Schematics, issues you had building it, everything."  
"Yessir, doctor."  
  
S: "Uh, what can I do?" Sans stands, hands stuffed in his pockets. Jawbone is already convening with Bikeaby to discuss reprogramming the sensor, what they're going to need to do. Sans realizes for the first time he's an outlier in the team, he's never been around for Big Projects.  
  
G: "You, Sans," Gaster crooks a finger at him, "Are coming to speak to me for a moment."  
Kenny lifts their head to stare curiously after the doctor as he retreats to his office and then shoots a questioning look at Sans.  
  
S: Sans shrugs, sheepishly. "Uh- it's probably about the readout? I'll.... figure it out." Gaster probably needs to be less secretive about this, everyone will think Sans is up to something....  
Sans shuts the door to Gaster's office and hangs out by it. "What's up, doc?"  
  
G: Gaster pats the edge of his desk to direct Sans up onto it.  
"Take your shirt off. I need to check, especially considering how busy you have apparently been." He snaps on a latex glove.  
  
S: Sans feels the rush of embarrassment up the back of his vertebrae, up to his skull. How much does Gaster know about what he's been up to??? Huh. He shivers, clambers up onto the desk and peels off his shirt to toss it on the floor. "Not... that busy."  
  
G: Gaster has to shift down to his knees to properly check the implant, his hands going to Sans' spine and ribs to move him around. "I will be the judge of that, thank you." He has a pen light, which he clicks on to shine on the implant.  
  
S: Why does Gaster touching him have to be like that, why is Sans so gross. He runs his hand over the dome of his skull, antsy. "It doesn't hurt anymore."  
  
G: "That is good to hear." He clenches the light between teeth and uses his fingers to check each screw. One of them is a little loose... "No scorch marks, at least."  
  
S: Sans fixes his eyes on a chart on Gaster's desk and tries to focus on it. Maybe Grillby's fire wouldn't actually burn items? He doesn't burn his own clothes... "Sorry. For- uh. Risking any damage."  
  
G: "It could have turned out badly for you." Gaster reaches into one of his sleeves and pulls out a tiny screwdriver. "This is going to pinch, Sans."  
  
S: "It didn't, though, and- I mean, smoking with Bikeaby was dumb, but the - ....rest, I trusted....i knew I wouldn't...." He's going to stop talking before he talks himself into a corner. Right. A pinch. He takes a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready."  
  
G: Gaster aligns the screwdriver with the loose screw and drives it into Sans' spine. The bone is half-healed around it, but it needs to be fully seated to ensure stability. "I will not scold you excessively for it."  
  
S: "Nnnnnh!!!" Sans shoves two knucklebones against his teeth. Fuck that hurts, fuckfuck . Worse than when it was first done.  
  
G: "There's a good boy." It doesn't take him very long to fix the screw, and he finishes up by running a finger from the top of the implant down. The bone clicks against it's different plates.  
  
S: Sans swallows, more to feel himself do it than anything. His knuckle clicks against his teeth. There's a shiver down his spine... Awful, awful ( _he just wants to be touched so bad?_ ) but he makes himself crush it down. "Is it- better now?"  
  
G: "Yes, it should be fine now. Follow doctor's orders next time, hm?" Gaster pulls his gloves off and discards them before getting Sans' shirt for him. "That will smart for a while."  
  
S: Sans takes his shirt with shaky hands and tugs it on. He's going to be sore. He wants.... well, he shouldn't go home and call Grillby, that's... the whole reason he's in this mess. Fuck. "I'll be more...careful."  
  
G: "I believe you." Gaster opens the door and directs Sans out, he has his own work to do in here.  
"We've a spectroscope down in the storage section. Each soul obviously lies at different points of the spectrum, we may be able to draw more information from them if we look into it. Alright?"  
  
S: "Gotcha. I'll drag it out and start the tests right away." Now everyone has their tasks. Everything in its place, all's right with the world.  
  
G: Bikeaby keeps his head down when Sans comes out, but his ears are laid flat and there's a flush up his throat. What did he just hear...  
  
S: It probably doesn't help that Sans is walking kind of funny. When he drags the spectroscope up to a free table, he moves funny and hisses between his teeth in a way he thinks no one can hear, but is kind of noticeable. Still, he works diligently after that.  
  
G: It's pretty quiet for the rest of the day. Bikeaby actually speaks quietly, for once, to avoid disturbing the others in their work. Even though they're all working hard, the hours pass slow. Gaster doesn't dismiss them until even he seems exhausted with it.  
  
S: Sans actually digs around in his desk until he finds a packet of cigarettes - half crushed and from Waterfall's dump- and stands outside to smoke one before making the trip home.  
  
G: Gaster finds him on the security camera, watches for a minute before deciding to join Sans outside. "Does something have you nervous?"  
  
S: Sans is surprised to see him for a second; Gaster usually retreats from the others after he dismissed them. Still, he holds out the pack to offer a cigarette just out of courtesy. "Uh. It's nothing, Doc, just personal stuff. Figured I'd unwind a little, is all."  
  
G: "No, thank you." Gaster doesn't often smoke, and he was not aware Sans did until yesterday. He is learning quite a lot about his protege recently. "Anything you need help dealing with?"  
  
S: Sans fidgets with the soft packet, peeling plastic with fidgety fingerbones. "I don't know. I think most of it is being....y'know, young and.....tumultuous, or whatever it is you call twentysomethings."  
  
G: Gaster is utterly unable to relate. "Something I missed out on. Fortunately, perhaps. There are certainly enough movies about the condition.."  
S: Sans laughs. "Yeah, that's pretty much my only source of info on this right now. According to....human Hollywood, or whatever it is, I'm apparently normal. Or going to die tragically, I dunno."  
  
G: "Neither of those is true."  
  
S: "I'm not normal?"  
  
G: "No. But I would not say I am, either. Nor Kenny or Jawbone." Bikeaby could probably pass for just some regular stoner.  
  
S: Sans watches the little trails and ghosts of his smoke fading into the heat shimmer of the distant Core. He's not sure what makes him feel better in that statement. "Why aren't we normal?"  
  
G: Gaster shrugs carelessly, his eyes lidded as he watches the Core in the distance. The bellows pump hot steam to a series of cool pipes, the condensation fuels blah blah, et cetera. He is tired and doesn't want to go through the entire process right now. "We are working to save our people. We dedicate our lives to it."  
  
S: "It's because." Sans takes a long drag of his smoke, letting it settle in his skull and ease his thoughts before he speaks. "You inspire me to. You make....you make it so... I think every one of us gets caught in your drive."  
  
G: "Do you, now? Mm." Gaster is quiet. The cigarette smoke is acrid and occasionally blows against him, the heat from the Core pushing the air as it fuels their homes. "A worthy side job, then. Inspiring young hearts."  
  
S: Sans feels. Something. Ridiculous, mostly. "Has science- the lab- always been it for you? You don't ever talk about. Old friends, old flames or anything."  
  
G: Oh, that's something he has never really thought about in depth, isn't it? Gaster's observations are mostly pointed outwards.. "I came to be with a drive to help. To get us out of here, yes, but also to make these bleak lives we lead just a bit easier. Strange, considering how alone I prefer to be."  
  
S: "Gotta admit I'm kind of. Envious of that drive a lot." Sans admires it. Too much, probably. "You're incredible, Doc." And he's talked too much. He grinds out his cigarette on the volcanic rock in front of him.  
  
G: Gaster looks down at Sans for a long minute before settling a hand on one of his shoulders.  
"Thank you. That actually feels like it means something coming from you."  
  
S: It means something. A lot of somethings. This moment feels strange and hazy and perfect and Sans stays very still so as not to ruin it. In one of his movies he'd probably try to kiss the Doc. He doesn't even have lips.... "Yeah, uh. You're welcome. It... It means a lot to me, too."  
  
G: "How lucky we are, then, that I am the royal scientist and you are my protege." Gaster sighs deeply and rubs at an eye socket that's been aching for the past couple hours. "When you are healed, we will start training with the blaster. Are you excited?"  
  
S: Is he excited to learn how to kill humans? No.  
"Yeah. I can't wait." He grins at Gaster.  
  
G: That grin looks tired. Gaster hums and pats at Sans' shoulder before turning to return to the lab.  
"I will see you tomorrow, Sans. Walk home."  
  
S: Ugh, that's so much effort. At least Sans has time to smoke another cigarette on the way there.... "I'll see you in the morning, doc. Goodnight." He wants to say something else. He doesn't.

* * *

  
G: It's three more days before they get their grant, and the requisition order takes longer to fill. The designs for the new sensor are finalized, and Gaster has been tediously going through Kenny's schematics and adding components. Due to his good mood, Gaster allows them all to leave early.  
All except Sans, at least.  
"I suppose now is the time for private training, hmm?"  
  
S: Now would be the time. Sans has been careful, cautious. Avoided pulling the implant in any way or hindering its healing. He knows the inevitable result will be using it, but....  
"You betcha, doc. I'm ready on that whenever you are."  
  
G: Gaster takes them to that secret little space again, a few new craters already blasted into the walls.  
"Do you remember what I said, Sans? The difference between magic and the blasters?"  
  
S: Gaster's been practicing, too, hasn't he?  
"These aren't natural like magic. A- uh, what did you say? Hammer and trigger?" He's got his hands stuffed in his pockets, nervous.  
  
G: "Precisely." Something new and... interesting to study. Monsters don't have guns, they have no need for them, and their magics are more. Elegant. Nothing elegant about the noise and violence of a bullet. "Cast for me, Sans, and pay careful attention to how it feels, how you work it."  
  
S: This, Sans has actually been practicing. He grins when he pulls his hand out of his pocket and summons the first wave of bones. A few cyan stoplights mixed in there, a few tricky ones. "You know, I didn't really have any magic of my own before I started training with my brother."  
  
G: "You hadn't any, or you simply did not utilize it?" Gaster observes from a few feet behind Sans. How long ago did he start training? He's coming up with more complex things than many other monsters Gaster has seen. "Nevermind that, it doesn't matter. Tell me how you feel, instead, how the magic works through you."  
  
S: Sans considers it for a while, throwing out different and more challenging patterns just to see how they feel.  
"I feel it in my marrow. Easy like a third arm, another leg." He lets another wave sweep out across the stone. "Kinda joyful. Maybe that's just because I'm always practicing with Papyrus."  
  
G: Gaster hums, watching the processes and patterns. Yes, that's quite nice, isn't it? Sans would already be an issue for unsuspecting humans.  
"Very good. Magic is natural to us, it is what makes us. So our attacks, they are an extension of ourselves." He taps at one of Sans' shoulders, catching his attention. "The blaster is going to feel different, and this may be very difficult at first. It comes not from within you, but from without. Impersonal but with purpose."  
  
S: Sans dismisses the last attack, takes a deep breath. He's not actually sure how to summon it? For starters he focuses on the implant at his spine, seeing if he can feel it to pull from it. He sort of feels something, but no blaster appears.  
"How do you call yours?"  
  
G: "It is rather easy for me by now. I simply think it into existence, and it comes to me. But I remember that it not how it was at first.." All that while ago. "First you must make contact with it, if you can. That thing that is very un-monster. Perhaps like something waiting at the back of your skull."  
  
S: That thing that is very un-monster . Sans searches for something like that. Really concentrates. Until sweat beads on his browbone.  
Nothing.  
What's unlike a monster? A human, he supposes. To feel human...? "I don't know how to do it, doc."  
  
G: Gaster expected as much, honestly. It took him a while to get the hang of it, as well, though it came naturally after that first time.  
"Here, perhaps I can help." His hands fall to just above the implant, the other touching just barely where Sans' spine meets his skull. "It is physical rather than magical, almost a.. heat. A jerk of the soul. Something you may not want to reveal but that lurks just the same."  
  
S: A heat, a jerk of the soul? All Sans can think about is Gaster's slender fingerbones on him. It's not exactly helping him focus. He tenses, in his spine, in the vertebrae all the way down. Holds himself very straight, very tight, as tall as a short skeleton like him can. Teeth gritted with the effort.

He just feels stupid . In front of Gaster, he hates feeling stupid. "I feel like I'm going to break a tooth, but I can't find it."  
  
G: "That is alright, Sans, we needn't bring it about this very first time. I think I would be rather startled if you did." Gaster hums close to Sans' skull, his fingers digging in slightly. "A closer connection with your magic may help, so you may develop a more accurate picture of what it feels like. And so you may begin to develop a deeper sense of what it isn't. "  
  
S: God, why is he still touching Sans like that? And so close..... Sans takes in a rattly breath. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, spine still straight. Barely daring to move.  
"I'd say I feel- competent enough with magic... How would you, uh. How would you suggest getting closer?"  
  
G: Gaster finally backs away, and his hands move to direct his own magics. The white forms, palms and fists and so many fingers, come together to construct something solid. The doctor settles onto them without thought, the platform dipping a bit under his weight. "By using it for something other than battle. We so often forget that magic is not just a tool for war, it creates life as well. There's no reason it cannot be applied everywhere. Cooking, cleaning, providing a place to rest."  
  
S: Sans watches the hands, the solidity of magic and its purpose. His spine relaxes at the absence of touch and he can breathe again. Well.... good, he supposes.  
He finds that wellspring of magic in himself and adds; a few bone steps for Gaster to walk up.  
"Huh." Honestly, he never particularly used magic before he started sparring with Papyrus. He knows others do all the time; cooking with fire magic, what have you. The stairs waver a little till he focuses on them. "I never really thought of it like that."  
  
G: "A product of a society hoping for.. retribution, no doubt. Something the king established." Gaster steps up onto them without hesitance. He has quite a bit of faith in Sans' abilities. His own magic forms another platform that settles at Sans' feet. One of the hands invites him onto it with a curling finger.  
  
S: Sans laughs and steps gingerly onto the hands. He expects them to grab at his slippers, but they don't, holding his weight perfectly and with ease. He adds another set of steps, catching up with Gaster and teetering on the top step.  
"I'm sure yours is plenty useful outside of battle. Who doesn't need a hand?"  
  
G: Gaster laughs into his own fist, one knuckle tapping against his teeth. "Philanthropic phalanges." A new set of platforms join together, another landing to rest as the steps behind them fade away.  
  
S: Sans rocks on the balls of his feet. He wonders what other practical application his magic might have, honestly. It's hard figuring out what to do with... bones. However... He grins, glancing at Gaster. "You trust me, doc?"  
  
G: "Enough to know you would not off the monster who signs your paychecks." It's meant to be a joke, though Gaster is sure his tone does not imply it very well.  
  
S: That....hm. "If ya trust me, let the hands go." It's a pretty bold suggestion. They're not high up enough for any lasting damage, but it would hurt to fall.  
  
G: Gaster tilts his head as he studies Sans, his weight shifting more to one hip than the other. What was it they used to call it? Trust fall? "Well, alright." The fingers below him pull apart before fading completely.  
  
S: The first rush of gravity knocks air out of his ribs, but Sans reacts quickly enough. _You're blue now._ He holds them both with a conscious effort, grinning at Gaster. It's more showing off than anything practical, but he's kind of.... comfortable, like this, just being in midair.  
  
G: Gaster breathes a soft " _oh!_ " as he's caught. This certainly isn't what he expected at all.. "This is beyond intriguing.. How long have you been able to do this? "  
  
S: "Papyrus figured it out first." Sans waves his hand in soft and lazy patterns, swaying them slightly. They're slowly descending as he gradually lowers them both. "He kinda uses it differently. Messing around with gravity. He weights down. I'm alright at that, but I'm also alright at lifting up. I only figured it out by messing up his blue attack, though."  
  
G: "How very, very interesting. " Gaster relaxes against the pull, non-pull of gravity. Oh, he could get used to this. "Perhaps we should work this into practice, as well. The potential applications are impressive."  
  
S: In a way, it's like Sans is holding him. It's.... kind of nice. They're drifting down featherlight.  
"You think? Papyrus mostly uses it to make it harder to dodge his attacks, but." But well. "I guess I didn't think about moving items instead of monsters with it. What do you think the potential applications are?"  
  
G: "I think I would personally become very lazy, to be completely honest." Gaster chuckles quietly thinking about it. "Not that I am encouraging the same. But this certainly opens the door for quite a bit of creativity, don't you think?"  
  
S: It opens the door for a great deal of creativity, most of which Sans thinks is going to prevent him getting off the couch when he needs things. He'll probably need more practice, though....  
"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say the part where you weren't encouraging me to get lazy, and fetch sodas without getting up." Might as well be honest. He feels his toes scrape the ground and gently sets them both down. "I guess I didn't really consider getting more intimate with magic than to fight."  
  
G: "Intimacy with magic is intimacy with the self, Sans." Gaster straightens himself out once they're back on the ground. Gravity feels strange now that he's experienced the lack of it.  
  
S: Sans feels kind of weird about that. Maybe because he's always kind of weird around Gaster. "Can't believe it, Dr. Gaster encouraging me to get intimate with myself, what would Bikeaby say." Joking it off is the only way he can really handle it. "Uh- kidding."  
  
G: Gaster takes an extra moment to process that. Oh, he did say that, didn't he? "Some form of encouragement? I try not to listen too closely to Bikeaby, lest I hear something so stupid it causes me to dissociate from this plane of reality."  
  
S: Sans snorts out an unattractive laugh. Well, harsh. "I won't make any more dirty jokes, either, I think I prefer you on this plane of existence."  
  
G: "I am a scientist, not a prude, Sans." Gaster finally gets himself sorted, a few extra hands helping to straighten out his coat.  
  
S: Are the two somehow mutually exclusive? "Well. I mean, you know. You don't seem particularly. Into that kinda thing. And when we talk shit in the lab- I mean, you banned talking about sex tapes."  
  
G: Gaster scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. "Bikeaby."  
  
S: "I just thought you might be ace." Sans really, really needs to stop talking. "So, y'know. Comfort zones and stuff....." Not to mention, Sans is a mess.  
  
G: "Sans, you're flushed."  
  
S: Jesus. Can he even blush????? "Yeah, wow, huh, must have- exerted myself with that magic, hm, look at that, better go."  
  
G: Gaster looks unsuitably smug, but he doesn't poke at Sans any more than that. "As you like. I will call you in once our orders are filled, there isn't much point in coming to the lab until then."  
  
S: Great, so Sans gets to sit around and beat himself up for this conversation until then. And what's that look ? "I. Alright, doc. Thanks... for training with me." He really does mean that. "I feel like I've already learned a lot and I haven't even summoned the thing yet." Notably, he's learned how goddamn thirsty he is.  
  
G: "Sessions will continue at least once a week, unless you have any objections."  
  
S: "Nope, no objections from me." Sans is still flustered. He scuffs his slippers on the rock. "See ya next time, doc." He shortcuts out in a hurry.  
  
G: He's gone before Gaster can say goodbye in return, but that's alright. No hard feelings, and he seemed eager to get out from under the line of fire. It's funny. Cute, even. And the lab has existed just fine without any interpersonal drama so far. Gaster cannot find himself caring enough to discourage it.

* * *

  
He calls in a few days' time to order Sans back to the lab. Their materials are in, and they can begin building the preliminary components for their research. Gaster is.. excited, obviously so even over the phone.  
  
S: Sans shows up pretty quickly after the call comes in, and in a good mood. He's had too much time to himself at home, too much time sitting around doing.... nothing good. Gaster's enthusiasm is catching, and he knows that even though there's a great deal of work to be done, it should be a lot of progress. He brings in a box of spider donuts for the team, chipper, and smiles brightly at Gaster as if to say 'yep, totally normal and functional, not pining over you or anything!'  
  
G: Gaster takes the one with the most legs, much to everyone's barely-contained horror. They have a crunch to them that he really appreciates.. "Before we can move on to building the extractor, we must first find out exactly what it is we are going to be extracting."  
"I took the appropriate parts from the chronoscope already." Kenny has the greasy smudge on one cheek to prove it. "We can use that as our base and, essentially, modify it to measure monster's soul against a human's."  
"And from there, we will be able to narrow down whatever frequencies and wave lengths this mysterious element exists on."  
  
S: "There are five of us, and five souls." Jawbone has a screwdriver in his mouth, adjusting the last few screws in Kenny's work that the little monster couldn't get the strength to tighten themself. "Comparatively, we'll get 25 different results. That gives us a whole lot more data points to work with, and a much better chance of nailing down exactly what it is we need to get."  
Sans takes his seat after making himself an oversized cup of coffee.  
"It also helps work out any oddities there might be from having only one monster as a control. Monsters are all so different. This way we can average all of our data to have a more standard base model of a monster." With Gaster on the extremely high end, and Sans on the extremely low end.  
  
G: "Modifying the chip set'll just be a matter of manipulating the coding, and I can puzzle together the sensor pads. But this thing is gonna take a lot of power, even if it's gonna wind up a pretty small machine." Bikeaby sounds a little more like he's making excuses than stating problems they'll run into.  
Gaster waves him off with sticky fingers. "Power is no issue this close to the Core. If need be, we can hook anything amd everything directly up to the bellows."  
  
S: "We could run eighty of them with the power from the bellows, also light the whole lab, and still hook up a toaster for our pop tarts." Jawbone finishes the last screw and spits out the screwdriver. "If anything, we'll need to set up a damper so that the thing doesn't blow a fuse from too much power."  
"That's easy, though." Sans can do that. "We gonna get going?" He swipes icing off one donut.  
  
G: Gaster hums the affirmative and fans his hands out, his magic springing into several more. He can only manipulate so many at a time, especially when they are meant for purposes other than taking down humans.. But they should prove useful nonetheless. Kenny and Bikeaby both seem used to this, and immediately get to work with the assistance of a pair of hands. Gaster himself retreats deeper into the lab, into the darker portions that they rarely use. He knows he left that somewhere...  
  
S: Sans starts on the grunt work, picking parts, making measurements. He's mostly good for helping with that kind of thing. A few of Gaster's hands help, and Sans. Doesn't think too much about them. Or else his imagination will wander. Where has Gaster gone?  
  
G: "Here, dude, you'll need these if we're gonna exist in the lab at the same time." Or probably... Bikeaby hands Sans a pair of tinted goggles for whenever they get to the hard grit of work. Right now it's just measuring things out, but Kenny and Sans are making fast work of that. It won't be long before Bikeaby and Jawbone can get to the real metalworking involved. "You know, Kenny, I still have a question."  
"Yeah?" It takes them a second longer to lift their head from the mark they're making on a sheet of steel.  
"How did you build that whole machine all by yourself?"  
"Oh. I only made things are large as I could handle. The chronoscope is put together a lot like a puzzle."  
  
S: "Really?" Sans is impressed. He finishes drawing out a shape before he straps his goggles on top of his head. "Ken, you're a pretty brilliant engineer. You ever built anything this impressive before you started working for the Doc?"  
  
G: Kenny flushes and shifts their eyes away like they aren't sure if they want to talk about it. Eventually, they do. "My grandparents worked for doctor Gaster, and my parents have been part of the team assigned to the Core for a long time. I guess I kind of. Legacied into it."  
"Shit, Kenny, I didn't know all that. No wonder you're so smart, you come from a whole family of genius."  
"Well. I mean, I've essentially been hearing about the doctor my whole life. This kinda seemed the natural route to take.."  
  
S: "I remember Ken's grands. I actually trained under them. I was younger, but they were brilliant." Jawbone double checks their measurements to make sure everything is perfect.  
"Shit." Sans is impressed. "Am I the only one who isn't like, a super genius?"  
"There's Bikeaby."  
"Harsh, JB."  
"You're smart too, Sans. You just don't try."  
"Guess not." Sans can't mention all his extracurricular work.  
  
G: "Yeah, actually, aren't you some kind of prodigy?" Bikeaby and several of Gaster's hands lift one of the sheets of steel to take deeper into the lab to work on. They are all careful not to smudge any of the measurements.  
"You're most of the way through college for an incredibly hard degree, and you didn't even go to any traditional grade school." Kenny fidgets with their chalk for a minute, thinking over it. "Are all skeletons like that?"  
  
S: Sans mostly helps carrying the already lifted pieces rather than pick up new ones because that seems easier.  
"I only know myself, my bro and Gaster. And Gaster's.... his genius is outside the range of ordinary."  
Jawbone burrows away and pops up ahead to direct them from in front. "Bear left. Well, what about your brother?"  
"He's brilliant." Sans doesn't even hesitate. "Head of his class in magic, and came up with a whole specialized magic form on his own."  
"So it has to be a skeleton thing."  
"I dunno. Too small a sample size."  
  
G: Kenny fishes a small pair of goggles out of their coat and snaps them on. It's been a good while since they've all been back to use the steel lab, they haven't had any projects large enough to necessitate it until now.  
"Well, coincidences are pretty rare in our line of work. I'm more willing to bet it's a Thing than it isn't."  
"Yeah, for real. Alright, it's about to get loud and bright, goggles on." Bikeaby flicks on the ventilation system, and it rattles a bit from disuse before smoothing out to a dull thrum.  
  
S: Sans snaps his goggles on. They fit a bit weird against his eye sockets and don't exactly cover everything. They're going to have to do....  
"I've never used any of this. Gimme a rundown?"  
"Don't look at me." Jawbone has huge goggles for each eye. "I supervise, I don't weld."  
  
G: "I'm the only one that welds, you stay over there and try not to get slag in your slippers." Bikeaby lugs out a big, menacing-looking nozzle and turns a few dials on a nearby console. "Hey, Kenny, hand me the igniter."  
One of Gaster's hands beats them to it and even clenches the striker so the nozzle lights. "Oh, that works. Thank." The hand responsible gives him an a-okay sign.  
  
S: "Well, shit." Sans idly hi-fives one of the unoccupied hands just because he can. Actually, there's a potential use....hi fives after a good joke. It's a shame Gaster doesn't tell knock knock jokes, too....  
  
G: The hand seems to startle a little, and if half-fades away as if it's sulking. Jeeze..  
Bikeaby tunes up the torch until the flame is bright, sharp, and blue before putting it down to steel. It takes a couple seconds, but the flame soon pops through as he begins cutting through the metal. Little glowing bits of slag spray down onto the concrete floor, and the rest of Gaster's hands soon fade to avoid coming in contact with it.  
"See, Bikeaby is kind of an idiot, but he has a lot of engineering know-how. For some reason."  
"I read a lot of manly stuff," Bikeaby informs them, having to raise his voice over the sound of the torch, "You know. How To Weld and the Metalsmith's Bible and Cosmopolitan."  
  
S: "Manly." Some of the light hits Sans's sockets around the edges of the goggles, but not bad enough to hurt. He watches Bikeaby carefully cutting through each shape, keeping track of how he does it. He's never actually built anything large scale like this...  
"Make sure that line is clean, B, we're putting in the supports there and they'll be exposed if you cut crooked." But Jawbone even seems to trust Bikeaby's skills.  
  
G: "I know how to do this junk, dude, chill."  
One of the hands, the same one Sans high-fived, taps his shoulder to draw his attention. It and another hand work together to sign. Possible power outage in thirty seconds. Counting down presently. Twenty-nine..  
  
S: "Shit." Sans speaks out loud to translate. "Guys, potential power outage in thirty seconds, - uh, actually more like 28- so...." Will that stop Bikeaby in his work? Sans signs back at the hands. Hoping maybe Gaster can see it. Any way you can delay on that?  
  
G: The hands split apart, palms up, and bob. What would be a shrug, had they a body attached to them.  
"Sweet, welding in the dark, sounds like my kinda party." The first shape Bikeaby cuts pops out of the metal onto a hand waiting to take it and set it aside.  
"Gaster must be working in the boiler if he's thinking the power's going to go out. Probably redistibuting some things."  
  
S: "No doubt setting up power for this thing for whenever it's ready." Jawbone shuffles in drawers until he can find a flashlight. "Here's that hand-crank lantern too, you want to help me with this one, Ken?"  
Well, at least no one is worried about it. Sans helps by digging around to see if there are batteries for the flashlight anywhere.  
  
G: The lights in the lab fade for a few seconds, and Bikeaby lifts the cutting torch away before they completely go out. The flame casts an uncanny blue glow, just barely illuminating unfamiliar scraps of metal and machinery. "I wonder how long it's gonna be out."  
Two hands take the crank lantern and start on it, tirelessly turning it to keep the room lit as much as they can. Bikeaby finds his place by light of the torch and sets to work on it with one of Gaster's hands guiding close to the marks on the steel.  
  
S: In all honesty Sans should probably lift off the goggles so he can see better in the dark, but the light of the torch is still bright enough that he can't imagine it wouldn't hurt to look directly at. He hasn't really found any batteries, so he gives up trying. "I dunno."  
"Last time he laid in new power for a big setup it took around an hour to get everything back online, but there's no telling now. Could be quicker." Jawbone clicks on the flashlight. It's weak, but it's light.  
  
G: "Is he just working down there in the dark by himself?"  
"Gaster has his own help."  
Bikeaby snatches a hand back and yanks the glove off. A tiny black pellet falls out along with the slightest whiff of singed fur. " Creeepppyyyy. "  
  
S: "Maybe he needs a light, too?" Sans considers at least going down with his phone to help out. Then again... that might just be him worrying too much about Gaster.  
"I mean, if you want to help the Doc, we've about got it covered here. I can't say you won't just be underfoot for him, but there's three of us, and plenty of these -" Jawbone nods at the hands- "So you're not really going to deprive us of help."  
"Yeah, maybe I will..."  
  
G: "Sans and Gaster, sitting in a tree-"  
"N-o-t-h-i-n-g."  
"Ooo, is that some hostility and jealousy I detect there, Kenny?"  
Kenny seems entirely unphased. "No, I know Sans is too chicken shit to do anything."  
  
S: "Honestly I ain't even mad." Sans is a little mad. But mostly because Kenny is right. He shrugs it off. "He's got a point. Anyways, I'm gonna go get underfoot. You guys try not to have a tragic welding accident or whatever while I'm gone." He lights the way with his phone, stepping carefully so as not to trip while he tries to find the Doc.  
  
G: "They're gonna go make out."  
Kenny waits until Sans is gone and Bikeaby has stopped cutting before punching him in the kneecap.  
  
S: Sans never really realized how creepy the lab was until the power went out. He shuffles along, trying his best to illuminate his path with his phone light, until he finds the boiler room and creaks the heavy door open. "Doc? Hello? I thought you might need a hand down here. Well, you've got _hands_ . But maybe a helper."  
  
G: "Sans?" Down here, the emergency lights keep everything at a steady glow. It isn't much to work by, but Gaster has good eyes and a lot of help. His hands flit around in the dark, rearranging and reconnecting ductwork to affect the flow of power. "Is something amiss upstairs?"  
  
S: "No, nothing. Bikeaby's trying to weld in the dark, and I was just standing around doing nothing, so I figured I'd check if you needed any help." Sans is still slightly ruffled from everyone picking at him earlier. Easier to be down here than to drag up to them with his metaphorical tail between his legs. "You need anything? A better light? My phone flashlight's okay." He shines it to demonstrate.  
  
G: "Actually, if you could be my eyes for a moment, that would be lovely." Gaster gestures to a series of pipes that his multitude of hands are flitting in and out of. "I have been trying to find the coupling by feel for a few minutes now, but I cannot locate it. I need to be down at this end to make sure the gaskets don't become damaged while the pipes are being moved."  
  
S: "Alright, awesome." Sans shines his phone into the pipes to peek around. He'll need to sort of duck down and crawl under a few to look deeper in... He does, scooting on his patellas. "Are you tracing certain pipes? I need to make sure I get the right one..."  
  
G: "You're looking for one about five inches in diameter. We do not necessarily need more power, we simply need the same amount of power with higher pressure." And forcing the same amount of heat through a smaller pipe is an easier way to do that than trying to direct more power into the lab.  
  
S: "Uff, alright." Sans spies it, wedged behind a few larger pipes. Why's he gotta be so big boned? He squeezes a littler further back. "I found it, but I can't reach it. Think you could get a hand back here if I guide it?"  
  
G: Gaster answers by way of sending two in after Sans. They pat on both his shoulder to let him know they're there. "Set them where they need to go and direct me. We will get this figured out, yet."  
  
S: Sans jumps a little at the touch and clocks his head on a pipe at the parietal bone. Ow.... "Alright, there's not a lot of manouver room, so you'll need to move careful." He takes one hand in his. Feels strange, more magic than substance. Not that monsters aren't mostly magic, but there's dust and bone animating them, and this feels more like touching a live wire than anything. He presses its fingertips against the coupling, takes the other and partially wraps it around the pipe. "Feel that? That's where it is."  
  
G: "Excellent, thank you." One hand begins unscrewing the coupling while the other holds the pipe steady. Steam gushes from the connection as it's loosened, heat still trapped in the pipe. Gaster allows it to escape before completely disassembling the pathway. Who really needs hot water? "Somewhere above you should be a similar coupling, it is simply larger to fit the pipe. Do you see it?"  
  
S: Sans scoots in. He's scraping up his kneecaps down here.... He cranes his neck until he can find it. The steam is hanging in the air, sweat's beading on his browbone. "Yeah, I can see it. Kinda high up." He reaches until he can touch it with one fingertip. "Okay, if you can, another hand where I'm touching and you'll have it."  
  
G: "Nonono, I need. Wait just a moment." Another hand swoops in with a tape measurer. It finds Sans before tracing up his arm to find the larger pipe. "We will need to make an adapter for this, so the larger pipe will lead into the smaller. Help me take this measurement, then we will hook everything back together so the power may return."  
  
S: The trace up his arm makes him shiver despite the heat. More sweat on his brow. Sans shakes it off and focuses. "Alright. I'm gonna hold the tape measurer, you wrap it around, then I'll mark it and we'll know the dimension. It'll take a little coordination but I think we can get it." Ugh, he's sweaty. He holds the tape measurer at the appropriate place. "Alright, go- wrap it and we're good."  
  
G: The hand follows directions, only knocking a knuckle against the pipe once. "I suppose there are a few advantages to being smaller than average."  
  
S: Sans snorts a laugh. "Fitting in tight spaces would work better if I wasn't as husky as I am." Still, he marks his place on the tape measurer and pulls it away to check it. "Eight and a half. That all we need, doc?"  
  
G: Gaster snickers softly. Husky.. "No, that's all I require for now. We can take the coupling and these measurements up to the others and start on an adapter."  
  
S: "Awesome." Sans scoots out and the pipes around him scrape unpleasantly on his ribs, the ground on his kneecaps. Uck. He's sweaty, too.... "Cool, I'm glad I came down to help, then." He stretches away the cramped feeling.  
  
G: One of the hands seems to notice Sans stretching and assists him. "Hold still." Two take him by the shoulders as the other presses into Sans' spine until there's a pop.  
"That should be better. Now, I would very much like to get out of here. It's terribly spooky down here, isn't it?"  
  
S: "U-uuunghhh." Sans feels all loose and noodly now. How long has he needed his spine cracked like that, holy shit. Also, Gaster saying spooky is... amusing.  
"Yeah, let's get back up. Who knows what kind of crazy assumptions the rest of the lab is making."  
  
G: "I can only _imagine,_ " Gaster hums, chuckling to himself. At least it's amusing.  
  
Bikeaby is just finishing up cutting steel when they come back, the hands assisting him busy arranging all the different pieces as they'll need to be welded together. "Making progress up here, doc. Noticed the power is back on."  
"Yes, I need an adapter built. Very simple, but it needs to be resilient."  
  
S: "We have enough steel to probably make it out of that, and it'll hold plenty of pressure if so." Jawbone pushes a particularly large piece across the floor for two hands to pick up and lay out.  
"I've got the measurements here, I can help getting that set up." Sans shuffles over to draw out the shape on the steel.  
  
G: Gaster directs them into a sort of assembly line. Sans and Kenny drawing out, Bikeaby cutting, Gaster welding behind the light curtains, and Jawbone grinding everything smooth. It's slow progress, as anything is when working steel, but it's progress. The converter is finished by the end of the day and most of the chassis for the new sensors. It's a lot for one day, night, whenever it is they pack up to go home.  
Well, most of them. Gaster seems confident he can finish the rest on his own, and there's never any convincing him otherwise.  
  
S: "You sure you've got it tonight, G?" Sans yawns and stretches. He's making a habit of staying behind a few minutes after everyone by now... It usually affords him a few minutes to talk to Gaster, at least.  
  
G: "As sure as I always am." Gaster has to flip the faceplate of his welding helmet up in order to even see Sans. His hands still flit around the lab, constantly moving until they finally settle out of distraction. "You do not know how to weld."  
  
S: "Well, no, I don't." And it seems like hard work, which he generally avoids. "I dunno, I thought I'd ask, I was kinda helpful before."  
  
G: "Indeed. Oh, I suppose I can install the converter now, I shall take care of that later tonight. Bikeaby will need to begin assembling the processors and chips, setting that in motion, we still need-" Gaster gets lost in his own thoughts, his myriad hands stalling even more.  
  
S: Sans hovers a minute. Gaster mostly has help, with all the magic he's casting, but it has to be more tiring than working alone.... He moves over to the coffee pot to fix him a cup of coffee before he goes. "Sure does seem handy, using magic like that."  
  
G: It takes an extra second for Gaster to respond, but it is obvious he heard it. "Was that a pun or simply a coincidence?"  
  
S: "No coincidences in our line of work." Sans bats away an insistent pair of hands to bring the coffee to Gaster himself.  
  
G: "Is that what we have been saying?" Gaster clicks his teeth together a few times, and a few hands flutter upwards in order to get to work... but they soon settle again like fat bees around the studio. "Ah, there is so much, Sans."  
  
S: "You're telling me." Sans is glad to see less of a flurry of magic, anyhow. Means maybe Gaster is settling down. "You're always moving a mile a minute."  
  
G: Gaster hums, gritting his teeth a little. "There is too much to do to go any slower. Time is always against us, you know."  
  
S: "Maybe not anymore, soon." Sans leans against the counter. "If we get this one figured out."  
  
G: " _When,_ " Gaster breathes, sounding absolutely sure of himself. One hand, a real hand, reaches out and blindly finds the cup of coffee. He sips, and his mind visibly settles a bit.  
  
S: " _When_ we get this figured out." Sans yawns. He should head home to bed, but.... he's kind of come to treasure these extra moments alone with Gaster. "When. We'll have all the time in the world, then."  
  
G: Gaster hums and plops down in a chair. His limbs seem loose, like his joints have nearly given up. "And how are your projects coming, Sans? I feel as if it is my duty to check in, as your boss and mentor."  
  
S: Sans has to admit he hasn't worked as much on his thesis project as he feels like he should have.... "Right now... Uh. Well, actually, it sort of convened with my work here at the lab." He grins sheepishly. "By cross comparing our Souls with the human Souls it kinda did some of my work for me. I just need to analyze different data points for that one." He should probably sleep less.....  
  
G: "And who ever said you could use my research?"  
  
S: Sans sits up straighter, very suddenly. "Wait, shit, is that an academic faux pas? Do I need to measure that again on my own with requests for the equipment and stuff? Shit...."  
  
G: Gaster snorts into his cup of coffee. "Calm down, calm down. Don't ever use that as a joke on anyone who is not either your friend or an intern too new to know any better." Most jokes in science are fairly mean-spirited.  
  
S: Sans is visibly flooded with relief, breathes out an incredulous laugh. "You're terrible , G, you got me."  
  
G: "Nearly everything we do here is open to the public and open for use. _Nearly_ everything." Gaster accentuates that for a reason, of course. Anything handed down directly from the king is secret until further notice.  
  
S: Sans actually remembers poking through a few of Gaster's open-sourced files back in school for research projects. Almost everyone knows about the Core's schematics, for one. Even if the layout of it changes thanks to the sliding rooms.  
"I'm good at keeping the secret ones secret." He's thinking about the implant on his spine.  
  
G: "Mm." It's agreement, maybe, or perhaps just a sound to fill the space. Most of the excess hands have faded away, like Gaster has decided to officially take a little break. "We have done quite a lot today. I can finish this all by morning, if I work through the night.." Talking more to himself than to Sans.  
  
S: "Or you could get some sleep." Not that it's any of Sans' business. He yawns. He needs to get home, too....  
  
G: "You made me an entire cup of coffee."  
  
S: Okay, he did do that.... "You don't have to finish it."  
  
G: Gaster tips the cup over to show that it's empty. "Time is always against us, yet again."  
  
S: Damn. "Well, there's why we need to master it." Sans should sleep, though. No coffee in his system. "Sorry for caffinating you."  
  
G: "It's no skin off my nose." Gaster winks. "Go home, Sans. I will see you in the morning."  
  
S: He just made a skeleton pun, holy shit. Sans' crush is out of this world. He's pretty sure he breaks a sweat giggling at that. "Yeah, alright. You got it, doc. Goodnight."  
  
G: The few remaining hands wave goodbye to Sans while Gaster immediately gets back to work. He doesn't seem particularly energized so much as just determined to get this done. Progress, progress.  
  
S: Sans crashes out for as long as he can manage himself, then it's back up and at em in the morning. He needs to cram some of his thesis work in there, too, so all in all it's set to be an exhausting day.  
  
G: There's a messenger from the king waiting by the door, looking nervous. They jump a bit upon seeing Sans and fumble through their bag for a thick letter. "Message for you, doctor, sir, from the king. U-urgent? Maybe? I haven't read it, so I don't know what it says, and if you have a problem with something the king decrees you should take it up with him!" The boldness built up over the course of that rapidly diminishes, and the messenger visibly sweats. "Instead of, um.. taking it out. On the mail carriers."  
  
S: Doctor ? Sans stares blankly at the messenger as he accepts the letter. From the king??? Is this mail supposed to be for him, or for.... Sans rips it open before he really thinks about it, and then they both look nervous. Shit, if he's opening Gaster's mail he's going to be in..... big......... "Uhm.... do you like soda? Do you want a soda?" He won't yell at them, at least, but he has no idea what he's about to read.  
  
G: "N.... no? Is this a test?" They awkwardly stand there by the door, growing sweatier by the moment. It's just... really hot by the Core. Yeah, that's all. Sans is blocking their way... "I wanna leave."  
  
S: "Uh." And leave Sans alone with this mail that he probably falsely opened and is about to get in serious trouble for?? Without any messenger to be a scapegoat? No.... this poor monster did nothing to deserve Gaster's wrath........... "Y-yeah." He sidesteps to let them aside, pulling out the thick parchment and pretending to be very absorbed in it very deeply. "Yup, sure is interesting."  
  
G: The messenger seems fine until Sans pulls the letter out, and then they drop all illusions and run back towards the elevator to the Capitol. Don't want to be involved in that, no thanks.  
  
S: Wait, did they really.... shit. Sans swallows and tugs the letter further out. Is Gaster around anywhere? Should he take it to him before he reads it? Or should he... just... read it.....  
  
G: "The fuck you doing out here, it's hot as shit?" Bikeaby pops his head out of the entrance doors and grimaces.  
  
S: "Uh! Coming inside! Now." Sans stuffs the parchment back in the envelope as best he can and shuffles through the door. "Where's the Doc, up in the lab?"  
  
G: Bikeaby snorts and pops his wheels out to circle around the lobby. "In the metals lab again, finishing up our job. What'd you say to that little weirdo who's been hanging around our door for the past twenty minutes?"  
  
S: Was the courier really outside that long?? "Uh, they apparently had a delivery. From the King. For the Doctor." Sans holds it out like it's a bomb.  
  
G: "Ooooh, boy..." Bikeaby also backs away from it, skidding a little on the rubber stoppers on his shoes. "Nuh uh, no, you aren't throwin' that on me. You touched it first."  
  
S: "Oh, goddammit." Sans continues dangling it from two fingers. "I opened it, Bikeaby, I'm going to die ." He's still moving towards the metals lab.  
  
G: Bikeaby doesn't follow, but he does call after Sans, "I'll sprinkle you on a cheeseburger, buddy."  
  
S: "Sprinkle me on the bar at Grillby's. Just- all over it. Make some kind of joke about spreading me on something hard." He has to stop yelling over his shoulder before he reaches Gaster.... He carefully creaks the door open. "Hey, Doc?"  
  
G: Gaster is surrounded by his own team of hands buzzing around the lab. He seems engrossed, and there's a hard line between his brows. Irritation, perhaps, on not having these things done already. "Sans."  
  
S: "So, the messenger is already gone, so you can't shoot them . And I sort of opened this, but don't shoot me . I've got a letter from the King. And I think our courier thought all skeletons look alike."  
  
G: One of the hands takes the letter over to Gaster, and he rubs hard at his eye socket before taking out the letter to read it. He scans down the page before huffing a very deep sigh and going back to rubbing his socket. Oh, he's been staring at a welding torch all night, and he's feeling it.. "The king is worried that manipulating the souls may damage them and render them useless. We will not be extracting anything, it seems." He is.. markedly more calm about this than the last time a royal messenger came through. Could be the migraine..  
  
S: "What, really?" Sans isn't as levelheaded about it as Gaster seems to be. "But- I mean, I know it's important, but this could be- we could...."  
  
G: "Hush, hush, my skull is splitting.." Metaphorically speaking. "I was worried about this and made calculations in case he shoved his snooter in and denied my grant proposal. So long as we can take precise notes and produce precise enough sensors, we can most likely create what the humans have artificially without having to work from a base code. It will just. Take more time."  
  
S: Sans rubs at his eye sockets with the heelbones of his hands. One step forward, two back.... But it's not all the way back to the start, and that's what matters. "You think of everything, at least." And it means they're not screwed. "We'll all have to convene on the calculations, but.... But it's not the worst news, right?"  
  
G: Gaster groans lowly and simply closes his eyes. Oh, he hadn't realized how bad they were until Sans broke his concentration. "They way you spoke, I thought it would certainly be worse than it is. No, we can bounce back from this. I will contact the king sometime soon to let him know we will change our plans."  
  
S: "In the meantime." In the meantime. "I think you oughta get some rest, don't you? You've been at this a while." And from the looks of it, he's burned himself out.  
  
G: "Are you going to start nagging me as the others do?" Oh, that was a bit snippier than he anticipated it being. About half of his helping hands fade off, and that eases the headache a little. ".. I am very nearly finished with this. Two hours off what I initially anticipated, but still nearly finished."  
  
S: Sans visibly winces. He knows Gaster gets like this sometimes, but... Well, maybe he thought he was exempt from having it turned his way. "Alright then, let me help. I can't weld, but I can help with anything else you need, right?"  
  
G: "Just bring me a coffee, I can do this just fine on my own."  
A few of his hands join together and sign frantically, No more coffee. Huh, well then..  
  
S: At least his magic knows what's best. "I'll get you a sandwich. And some water." That's better than nothing. "You can- you can call me if you need me, you know? Even just to hold some pieces."  
  
G: "I will be up with a progress report in less than an hour." The same hands that signed to him scoot Sans out the door.  
  
S: Sans does get the food and water, but he carefully sets it just inside the door on the counter so as not to disturb Gaster before he heads back down to where the others are. "Welp. King Fartbutt at it again."  
  
G: Kenny grimaces, "Is that who that was creeping around outside the lab?"  
"We watched them on the security cams for, like, half an hour before you got here." Bikeaby smacks a fist into his palm. "We were about to intervene. "  
"Yeah, uh-huh. So, what does Asgore have to reprimand us on this time?"  
  
S: "We're not allowed to extract from the Souls in case it damages them."  
"Are you fucki-... Are you freaking serious?" Jawbone drops his bagel on the table in disbelief. "Great, just great."  
"It's not the end of the world. Doc has the shit set up for us to make our own instead of extracting it, but....It's more work."  
  
G: Bikeaby doesn't look like he can figure out how to be. This whole thing makes him so damned nervous.. "Probably on my end, that's always how it works out."  
"I mean, for once I actually agree with the king. What if whatever it is we're looking for is what makes them, you know, work? The doctor has done an awful lot to collect the souls we have.."  
  
S: "Yeah." And .... changed for them, although maybe Sans and Jawbone are really the only ones who know much about that. "I mean.... we want to break down the barrier. And what we're doing here- it's not meant to replace breaking the barrier, I guess. Just.... to supplement it."  
Jawbone picks his bagel back up and chews on it thoughtfully. "I mean. That's true, but it still sucks . We could do so much more, so much faster, but. Bless the King, but he always trods on our toes."  
"You don't have any toes."  
"Shut up, Sans."  
  
G: "No toes that we know of." Bikeaby slurps loudly on a can of soda, and the action is somehow obviously directed at Jawbone. "So what did the doc say? That you were a boil on the face of scientific integrity?"  
  
S: Ouch. "That I was starting to be a nag like the rest of you."  
"Guess your golden boy status is wearing off."  
"Nothin' lasts forever." Sans shrugs. "He also wasn't as upset about the whole thing, he apparently kinda knew it was coming."  
  
G: Kenny huffs and pats their little hands on the lounge table. "Looks like the secret is we have to warn him before we tattle on him. Jeeze.."  
Bikeaby shrugs. Hell, he wasn't the one who got yelled at. "Whatever, so... it lengthens our schedule a little bit. Not like we have a deadline on escaping."  
  
S: "I dunno about you guys, but I'd like it to be within my lifetime. " Sans yawns.  
"Speak for yourself, you're young and skeletons apparently live till who knows when. I'm old. Let's make it my lifetime."  
"Jawbone, you're not that old."  
"Old enough to want to hurry up and get free."  
  
G: "I don't know what you guys are complaining about. How about we make this happen in _my_ lifetime."  
"Aw, Kenny, you're gonna live forever 'cause you're full of hate and thirst."  
  
S: Sans realizes it's probably not a most welcome conversation topic, but... "Wait, Kenny, aren't you pretty young?"  
Jawbone's brow furrows. "Oh my god, Sans, you can't just ask people how long their lifespans are."  
  
G: Kenny shrugs, they're pretty blasé about it at this point. "I'll get to fifty, tops."  
"Noooooo, don't say that, you're gonna live forever and help me smoke all my sister's pot."  
  
S: Bikeaby is clearly a lot more upset about it than Kenny is. Sans lets the subject drop out of an attempt at politeness; isn't it heavy enough talking about the idea that some of them may not live to see the surface? Maybe none of them.... No, no they're already at five out of seven. And it's only taken.... this long.... "That's a lot of pot to smoke, you should probably get to working on that right now."  
"Bikeaby is making a valiant effort on his own."  
"Like you're not helping?"  
"So are you."  
"Touche."  
  
G: "And not a damn one of you offers to pay me back. So you're all getting shamed."  
"I bought the pizza last time."  
Bikeaby motions to Kenny like they raise a good point. "So all of you except Kenny are getting shamed."  
  
S: "I don't have a sister who grows weed in her hydroponic lab or whatever, I just have a little brother who needs to eat."  
"You only pull that 'poor me I'm a guardian' thing when someone expects you to pay up."  
"Well, yeah. You better remember that."  
Jawbone rolls his eye. "Whatever. Next time we get drinks it'll be on me, I'm the least broke of you assholes anyways."  
  
G: "I'll take it."  
The elevator dings nearby, and Gaster skulks out with his welding goggles still on. He seems to mostly be feeling around by touch, judging the way his helping hands are behaving. He adjusts accordingly until he finds his way to the lounge couch and plops down almost on top of Kenny. They shift out of the way as fast as possible with a bright flush over their cheeks. "Hey, um, doctor. Are you finally taking a break?"  
The hands sign lazily, even they seem tired. _Welding is finished_.  
  
S: Sans translates, just in case. Adds, "Which should mean Doc is done for now, right?"  
"Well, that's the most manual labor out of the way at least." Jawbone still attempts to be an optimist. "Now is all brain work, right?"  
  
G: "Now is all Bikeaby work." It's really weird when he refers to himself in the third person.  
Gaster snaps his fingers close to his skull as if to wake himself up. It's been a very long night. "I am going to need your best work, yet. The king demands we leave every soul unblemished."  
"Sans told. I guess it makes sense, just in case we fucked one of them up somehow. Still, puts the pressure on me pretty hard."  
  
S: "I'll be behind you checking your code," Jawbone offers, "and whatever. It's no big deal if you mess up, we'll all just take you to he garbage dump and bury you alive."  
"No pressure."  
"Don't worry, he wouldn't stay alive long."  
Jawbone has been hanging around Gaster too long. Sans laughs nervously. "Well, I guess we know what to do next...."  
  
G: Gaster hums because he... may not physically be able to speak past that. The vibration rattles around in his skull too much.  
"Doctor Gaster, are you alright?" Kenny pats one of his hands. Their flush is gone, at least.  
"Shh, shh, hush. Nobody speak anymore, I cannot handle it.."  
  
S: Sans keeps his teeth shut tight, jerks his head 'no' when Jawbone goes to open his mouth. Signs at Gaster instead, hopefully he (or at least his hands) can see it. It'll be dark and quiet in your quarters. Think you can make it up there or want help?  
  
G: Gaster points just to the left of Sans. One of his other hands adjusts it so he's correct. "Excellent idea. Excellent.. Do not destroy my lab, none of you destroy my lab." He wobbles a little when he stands, his spine won't straighten out past a sixty-five degree curve. Oh, maybe he is getting old.  
"We'll take care of things, doc, you get yourself situated. And don't trip up the stairs.." He really needs to install an escalator for when he gets like this..  
  
S: Sans watches for a minute, fretting, to make sure he seems to be making it okay. Once he's out of sight, though, Sans has to let him go, so he begrudgingly turns back to everyone else. "Well, we can't destroy the lab, but we can always chat and work." For once.  
  
G: "What the hell are you talkin about? Now that the parents are out of the house, it's time to party. "  
Kenny punches Bikeaby in the back of one knee, but he's noodly enough to not hit the floor. "Come on, this is serious. The doctor always puts in way more than he should, we need to start buckling down, too."  
"It was just a joke, god.."  
  
S: "I vote for 'if Bikeaby gets even halfway done before we conk out tonight, I am getting us all drunk.'" Jawbone may just want an excuse to get drunk.  
"I'm in." And since Sans can't really help Bikeaby, he'll actually do some data work with his thesis today.  
  
G: Bikeaby's ears perk up again, apparently he's over the admonishment. "Is that a promise? Like, a plan?"  
"Jawbone doesn't joke, so.."  
  
S: "I joke!"  
"Since when?"  
"....well, whatever. Yes, it's a promise. So get to it."  
  
G: "Shit, alright!" Bikeaby immediately hops into the elevator and clicks the button a few times, and Kenny just barely makes it through the sliding doors in time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team rewards themselves for their progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter with some lab team bonding and some Sansby.

S: All in all, it actually passes pretty fast. Sans puts on music quietly on his laptop while he works at the data for his thesis. He talks to the others, occasionally, but Bikeaby has a substantial amount to do on the sensors and Jawbone's debugging absorbs him pretty completely. Sans glances up occasionally to see if Gaster is going to stumble back in, but knowing him he'll be out at least a full day.

G: Bikeaby stays good, mostly out of the promise of partying. But good, nonetheless. Each bit and bob of data is carefully interlinked and refined, and he has a good chunk of the coding done by the time quitting time rolls around.   
"So look, all we'll have to do is plug in the data for exactly what we're looking for, and then the program will find it for us."  
"But we don't know exactly what we're looking for."  
"Well, not yet, but I can do a major tune-up on the sensor pads tomorrow. Then we can get general frequencies, then specific frequencies, until we eventually narrow it down to exactly what we're supposed to find."  
"Sounds like a lot of sitting around and waiting for the machines to do the work for you.."  
Bikeaby huffs and crosses his arms. "Well, if you wanna spend a year and a half working those souls with a tuning fork, be my guest. "

S: Sans has been poking at data so long he's going kind of cross-eyed, and he's grateful for the chance to put it away and talk about Bikeaby's work.   
"It's gonna be the best we can do without any manual extraction. Once the sensors are refined we can actually measure as we go, so it'll give me time to poke at data while the next tune up is happening." He yawns. "God, though, it's weeks of work ahead."  
"WELL, good news, Bikeaby wasn't a fuckup, so we're all getting fucked up."

G: "YeeeeeeaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Ear-shattering, absolutely awful. The acoustics down in the lab just bounce it around, and Kenny has to cover their ears.  
"God, Bikeaby, chill the fuck out about it! Don't you go out partying, like, every weekend?"  
"Okay, but this is partying I don't have to pay for."

S: "If you wake the Doc up you're paying. With your life." Sans still stands and stretches. "We could go to-"  
"Not all of us are banging the bartender and therefore obsessed with that place, Sans."

G: "Wait, what?"  
"Oh, shit, we never told Kenny!" Bikeaby shuts down his terminal and hops up outof the chair he's been sitting in for several hours. Oh, that's asleep... "Sans got the D."

S: "Do we have to bring it up?" Sans is just embarrassed. "Yeah, alright, I got laid, cool, end of conversation, now you know."  
"We're not getting any drunker, talk while we walk." Jawbone whirs toward the door.

G: Bikeaby does Kenny the favor of picking them up and putting them on one of his shoulders.   
"Okay, so. Are we talking about _the_ D?" They are unconvinced.  
"Well, no, Sans got _a_ D. So you don't have to worry you're cute lil' head about that." Bikeaby lazily wheels along, does a couple loops around Sans.  
"I'm not worried. "

S: Sans would trip him if he wasn't holding Kenny.   
"What was your exact word? Chickenshit? Yeah, still chickenshit. I slept with Grillby." He's maybe a little....salty, about the exact phrasing, but he knows when someone has read him. "There. Now we can drop it."   
"You know what, fuck it, we'll go to your boyfriend's bar, I'm the only one who hasn't been yet."  
"He's not my boyfriend. ....but yeah, cool, let's go."

G: "Does that mean you're buying burgers, too?" Bikeaby may, in fact, have the ability to make his own stomach growl for emphasis. If not, it does a pretty convincing job of making that seem true.  
"Speaking of the D, you think we should invite the doctor along? He hasn't come back down all day.."  
"Fuck. No. You don't party with your boss, Kenny, that's rule number one."

S: "Besides, the Doc doesn't....party. I mean, can you imagine?"  
Sans snorts a little. "Maybe he needs to party. Doc's gotta get trashed to loosen up."  
"I can't decide if the idea of him being trashed is hilarious or terrifying." Jawbone snickers. "Or just sad."

G: "I bet G's a miserable drunk. Probably goes on and on about how disappointing his team is.."  
Kenny rolls their eyes. "Ugh, please get me off of this jackass before he turns into a pillar of salt."

S: "Ride with me instead, I'm cooler." Sans plucks them off Bikeaby's shoulder and deposits them in his hood.   
"Now you're one mighty being made of thirst."   
"Least we're not jaded and cranky."   
"You got me there. C'mon, river person might actually sleep some time, I don't want to miss the last ferry."

G: The ferry turns out to be one of Bikeaby's distant relatives this time, and they awkwardly catch up on family issues they whole ride to Snowdin. They part with a awkward   
"see ya, cuz.. twice removed.." Yikes.  
"You know, I didn't actually feel much like drinking before. But having sat through that stunted ordeal, I think I feel it coming on."  
Bikeaby seems to feel much the same, and his ears are laid flat all the way to the bar.

S: "How big is your family, Bikeaby? You have a lot of sisters, but don't you also have a fuck ton of cousins and shit?" Not that all cat monsters are related. That would be shitty to assume. Just like not all of Snowdin's bunny monsters are. But Bikeaby kind of seems to know everyone. 

Jawbone rolls an eye as everyone crosses into Grillby's. "Honestly this is why I'm glad I'm adopted. Only obligations i have are to my moms."

G: "Who needs obligations? Let's drink instead."

S: "Works for me." Sans slides onto his usual barstool. "Heeeeeyy. Grillby. Party of four, tab's on the big guy this time, get us fucked up."

G: "You're certainly bringing in a lot of new people recently."  
"But you recognize us, huh? Huuh?" If Bikeaby had eyebrows, they'd be going crazy.  
Grillby simply sighs and shakes his head. "What can I get for all of you?"

S: Sans isn't actually sure what drinks are good... He looks at Jawbone expectantly.  
Jawbone sighs. "Let's start with a round of shots, how bout it. Some... not top shelf whiskey, I'm not rich . Middle shelf." He thinks for a second. "And burgers, fuck it."

G: Grillby nods and pours a set of shots for all of them. "Have this, and tell me what you think of it." He splits off to the back room to prepare their food.  
Kenny is the first to take the shot, though they are fairly dainty about it. It doesn't take a lot for them to get trashed. They wind up coughing a little, eyes watering. "Yup, that's whiskey."

S: "Gimme my shot." Jawbone tips his head back.  
Sans tips the entire thing in. Weird. Kinda gross. But alright. Sans takes his own and coughs a little bit afterwards. Ugh, that's. Yep. That's alcohol alright. "How do you honestly do this every single weekend?"

G: "Okay, I don't do this every weekend. You guys make me sound like an alcoholic."  
Kenny shrugs a little, "Well, you're already a pothead."

S: "Least Bikeaby has a hobby." Sans is still trying to shake off the slow burn of whiskey.   
"You have a hobby, Sans, it's being thirsty."   
"Uh, wrong, my hobby is sleeping."

G: Grillby returns with four plates balanced expertly on his arms. "Now that you all have shots out of the way, may I interest any of you in real drinks?"  
"Yeeaah, I want something fruity."  
"Yes, very specific."

S: "I want a long island iced tea. But do you have a big gulp to put it in? I'm a big guy." Jawbone at least knows.   
"Uh. You have any more of whatever it was you gave me last time? The....firewater?" Sans is honestly more absorbed in the burger. Oh god, he hasn't eaten all day....

G: "I believe that was a hot toddy.." Grillby doesn't have a big gulp, but he does have a pitcher. He starts mixing up the drink for Jawbone while handing a proper menu to Bikeaby.  
"Could I have a hot toddy, too? Just a small one." Kenny, like Sans, seems more interested in their burger.

S: Jawbone rests his forehead against Bikeaby's back. "I am so ready for all this alcohol. Sans, make it happen."  
"Why am I your drink pour bitch?"   
"You're the intern."

G: Bikeaby snickers into his menu, but Grillby has a much better idea. He strings several straws together and sticks one end in the enormous drink.   
"Please don't chug something so incredibly alcoholic."  
Kenny swings their little legs as they eat, and they immediately pay for their hot toddy when Grillby gives it to them. "I just want the one drink.."  
"Aww, come on, Ken! Get wasted with us!"  
"You do know we still have work tomorrow, right?"

S: "Life is temporary, everything is suffering. Get drunk." Jawbone slurps loudly through the straws.   
"Dark."  
"Whatever, I'm having fun."   
Sans sips his hot toddy. That's better when he drinks it sober.... but he does forsee several more of these tonight. "Ken's a responsible monster, the rest of us can suffer and get hangovers."

G: "Just remember, B. If you screw up that coding tomorrow, the doctor's going to have your head."  
"Yeah, I'll let tomorrow's Bikeaby deal with that." He points to an item on the menu. "Yeah, can I get this with catnip instead of mint?"  
"I don't make a habit of lacing my drinks with drugs, so no."  
"Eh, I'll take it, anyway."

S: Sans finishes his food a little too fast, pats his ... gut??? Whatever it is that gives him shape under his clothes. Ugh. He'll have to sip the drink a little slower.... "How's the bar been, G?"  
"Flirting in front of us, how brazen."  
"Shut up."  
Jawbone snickers and slurps loudly through his straw.

G: Grillby looks between all of them, his brows creasing just a touch. "Ah. I see." He mixes their drinks silently after that.   
Kenny elbows Jawbone in the cheek, frowning heavily.

S: Now Sans is embarrassed. He scrunches down into his jacket. "S'not like." Now he seems like a jerk who kisses and tells.  
Jawbone huffs and slurps from his straw again. "Sorry, sorry. I'll behave." He is, however, quickly emptying his pitcher.

G: Bikeaby stares at the situation over the rim of him glass, god this drink is delicious. Grillby, on the other hand, gets to helping his other barflies. This is a business, after all, and he can't just cater to Sans and his friends all night.  
"So are you guys, like.. an item or..?" Kenny leans close to Sans to ask it, they don't want to cause any more trouble.

S: "No." Sans mumbles into his drink like maybe the hot toddy will swallow up his troubles. It's almost empty.... "We slept together. And. We're friends. That's it." The stares of the other monsters are crawling on his back.   
"There's nothing wrong with that." Jawbone seems actually apologetic as he slurps up the last of the pitcher. His straw makes that empty-cup-straw-slurp noise.

G: "Ah, I'm sure he isn't actually mad. Just.. disappointed." Bikeaby snickers and swallows an entire chunk of lime. His whiskers twitch a little from the sourness, but other than that it doesn't seem to affect him.  
Kenny is already developing a flush over their cheeks, and they keep their mug close to inhale the steam. It's very good.. "That was an awful joke, and I'm disappointed in you now."

S: "I'm pushing you off your barstool," Sans threatens, but he doesn't go anywhere with it. He wants a refill on this drink... he feel s nice and warm all over, honestly.... Even with everyone making fun of him.   
"You know, this is going to sound awful, but I'm tipsy." Jawbone leans against the bar. "When you first showed up as an intern, I thought you were Gaster's kid ."  
"What, so all skeletons look alike? Racist, JB."  
"Ok, how else would this little shrimpy skeleton land a job with the Royal Scientist?"

G: Kenny laughs a little, nodding. "To be honest, I thought the same thing. You're.. the only other skeleton we've ever seen down here, I thought Gaster was the only of his kind."  
"You remember how low-key excited the doc was about that shit? Oh my god, it was ridiculous."

S: Sans traces his phalanxes around the edge of the mug. It's cooling now, but it's still got traces of the drink's heat on it.   
"I guess it'd be pretty exciting. It had to have been- a pretty long time that he thought he was the only one? I've never been alone, like that. I always had my little brother." He's getting weirdly sappy? "This isn't fun drinking talk."  
"I get it, though." Jawbone is chewing on his straw. "I'd probably be excited too, if someone else just like me showed up. Like- hell. More than excited."

G: "I dunno, I think it'd be pretty cool. If there was just one of me instead of eighty billion*." *Not an accurate estimation. Bikeaby downs the rest of his drink, too, and pushes all of their empty glasses to the inner edge of the bar.  
It isn't long before Grillby comes along again and makes something new for them. He even reheats Kenny's when they ask about it, though he decides to simply make another for Sans. There isn't really enough left of it.. Jawbone gets another long island iced tea, though Grillby only gives him half as much this time.  
"I never really thought about it. Our family is pretty small, you know, and we're mostly in the Capitol." Kenny shrugs. "Though I guess it could get lonely.."

S: "I mean. One thing is I have questions." Jawbone is pretty hyped about having another drink. He slurps loudly. "Like, stuff that I don't know whether it's me as an individual, or any other monster like me would be the same. I'm a scientist, so I can test myself all day every day, but I've got no control group."  
"Shit, even with skeletons, our sample size is so small. There's three of us. And my brother's a kid, no way in hell I'm running tests on him." Sans shrugs. "I'm alright with not having a huge family, though, the two of us are kind of enough." Well.... except all that time that he spends thinking one shitty older brother definitely isn't enough for Papyrus.

G: "I think you have a one-up on a lot of us, though. You don't even know where you come from..." Not that Jawbone couldn't technically be the same... but Jawbone had a childhood and parents, even if they were adoptive parents. "Nobody just springs up out of the ground and goes to college. Or becomes royal scientist."  
Bikeaby takes his entire burger and dumps it down his throat without chewing. Oh, god, that's disturbing to watch sometimes.. "Speak for yourself, I waltzed outta the womb with a joint and Heelys."

S: "I've seen pictures of you as a kitten at your house, Bikeaby, don't even try to talk shit."   
"What, really?" Sans missed those.   
"Yeah, they're up in the hall by the bathroom. That little fuckin' nerd had glasses as a kid."

"Wh.........." Where??? _How????_ Sans shakes his head and takes a big drink of his drink to warm himself. "I didn't have to go through puberty. I think Papyrus might be the first skeleton to have to. And I mean, I sprung up pretty smart, so- that's cool. Most people don't pop up with a working interest and base knowledge of physics."

G: "See, that shit's just unfair. " Bikeaby huffs into his glass, his ears laid back flat. Whether it's out of jealousy or embarrassment, he doesn't make obvious. "Didn't even have to go to high school as an egghead. Jeeze, cheater."  
"I didn't either, you know."  
"Whaaaatt?? How did you avoid it?"  
"I was homeschooled."

Bikeaby makes another disgusted sound. "Oh, that's right, your whole family is like super-geniuses."

S: "I feel you." Jawbone snorts. "High school was the worst . I was a super nerd."  
"I bet even if I did go to high school, I'd have been a cool kid." Sans is just talking shit now. "I did aight in college."  
"That's because no one gives a shit in college, everyone is too stressed to care about that petty bullshit."

G: Kenny shrugs in response to that, as well. "I didn't have to go to college.."  
"Uuuuuugh, just shut up. Drink a lot and pass out so you'll shut up. Cheater. Chea-ter."

S: "Poor nerd Bikeaby." Sans pats him heartily on the back. "You and Jawbone did things the normal way. Me and Ken will be in the Cool Kids Club."  
"Does membership to your club require having a thing for older men?"  
"Nope, that's a bonus." Sans isn't even gonna let them get him down.

G: Oh! Kenny flushes. They've never been in a club... "One guy does not a thing make."  
"I think we're mostly talking Sans here. Wait a second..." Bikeaby seems to have struck upon something. "Kenny didn't go to grade school.. Sans didn't go to grade school... and they both wanna jump the G-man's bones. I smell a connection here."

S: "Feed that shit into the data analysis." Jawbone makes a noise that's probably supposed to sound like a computer. "Maybe the developmental factors found in grade school keep you from being interested in rickety assholes."  
"Orrrr, maybe we are just cooler and Gaster likes us better."  
"Gaster doesn't like anyone ."

G: "Doctor Gaster likes Sans." Kenny sips their drink, and their cheeks are definitely ruddier now. It wasn't a lot, but they're so small..  
Bikeaby snorts and takes the last dregs of his drink like a shot. "Yeeeaaahh, until he gets sick of Sans. Then he'll be a poor shmuck just like the rest of us, gettin' yelled at and shit."

S: It shouldn't bother Sans; it's just Bikeaby being Bikeaby. But the little outburst from earlier is still kind of bugging him.  
"I mean. I'm not.... special or anything. So....probably." He sounds far sadder than he'd like to. "Being another skeleton can only get me so far."  
"I remember when I used to be the favorite. Then again, I was the only one under him for a while, so he had no other candidate for favorite."

G: Bikeaby props an elbow up on the bar and holds his chin on his fist. "Oh, yeah, you've worked with the doc a hell of a lot longer than we have. God, that musta been awful."

S: "Not really. He was a lot cooler when I started working for him. He's... I dunno, maybe it's age. He didn't used to be an asshole."   
Sans keeps quiet, staring into his drink. But he thinks about it. Drinks the rest of his drink in a few long sips.

G: "He has his good moments."  
"Jeeze, Kenny, way to Stan for the boss."  
"Way to what???"  
"You know, it would take too long to explain that, so I'm just gonna order another drink."

S: "I'll have another one, too." Sans is doing okay. He thinks? He's not as drunk as he was last time, so that's an improvement.   
"The thing is." Jawbone is clearly less sober. "Those little good moments used to be most of the time? I mean, he's never really like.... slept eight hours, or not been wired all the time, but MAN. I used to look up to the guy. What was I thinking?"  
"I mean." Sans is quieter. "Whether or not he's nice , he's still helping a lot of people, right? He's still trying to save monsterkind."  
"Yeah. I guess . But do ya gotta be an asshole about it?"

G: Grillby shuffles away their empty glasses and makes new drinks as they talk, silent but helpful in the background.  
"You think the pressure's getting to him?" Bikeaby immediately starts sucking down his cocktail, gets half-choked, and has to stop.  
"It would make sense. Gaster is, like... the only hope we have of getting out of here right now."

S: "I think it's to do with... the errands the King has him do." Sans is very hesitant to talk about this. "Y'know. Killing humans. I think that changes a monster."  
"I mean, they're humans though. They kill us in droves ."  
"Yeah, and it leaves a mark on their Soul. We can look at any one of those and tell how many monsters they killed. Who's to say it wouldn't affect a monster, too?"  
Jawbone finishes his second drink and chews on the straw some more. "Could be worth looking into."  
"Well. I'm already doing it, so- y'know- don't write a study on it or anything." 

G: "Well look at you, finally putting that thesis together."  
Kenny seems to strike on something, and their face screws up. "Wait, so that means you're studying Gaster?"  
"Explains why he had those charts already made up."

S: "If you can think of another monster who's killed a human, feel free to point me in their direction. Otherwise, yeah, I'm studying Gaster." Sans stirs his drink idly- well, what's left of it, there's not much. "It's objective stuff. Or- as close as I can manage. Just, behavorial surveys and data analysis. It's not like- I'm not trying to write a golden review of Gaster or anything."  
"You're ... super, super biased though, Sans."  
"Okay, but! It's not about whether I like him. It's about whether he's _different_ ."  
"Why didn't you ask me?"  
"Well. Fine, I will ask you then. Later. When we're sober."

G: Bikeaby folds a hand near his mouth, "Ooooooooooh shit, son, got that academic bias goin oooooon."  
"Bikeaby, don't be so disruptive."  
He gets much quieter, but he still "ooooh"s behind his fist.

S: Sans folds his arms and rests his chin on them. "I mean, yeah, but everyone's got a little academic bias. I'm gonna do a good job. And figure this shit out."  
"I mean, it's about time. How long've you been procrastinating your thesis?"  
"Never underestimate my ability to delay something infinitely."

G: "You're going to kill it, Sans." Their speech is a little bit slurred, but Kenny is genuinely encouraging him.  
Bikeaby just shakes his head and starts picking through everyone's leftover fries. They're kinda cold, but they're still good.

S: Sans throws an arm around Kenny's tiny shoulders. "You think so? I'm gonna. Knock it out of the park. Straight outta the underground. Like- all of us will be. When Dr. G finishes his work."   
"You're drunk, Sans."   
" _You're_ drunk."  
Jawbone gasps, offended.

G: "And I ain't!" Bikeaby lifts his glass, shaking it a little. "Barkeep! Por favor!"  
Kenny elbows him in the ribs, really digging it in there. "Hey, don't be so rude, it's....... rude!"  
"I'm just a rude dude, baby, don'tcha love me anyway?"

S: "Now who's flirting?" Bikeaby probably isn't, but Sans accuses him anyways, because he needs some small venegance.  
"Don't, I'm already tired of living in a romantic comedy sitcom."  
"I wouldn't call it a rom com."  
"Everyone's flirting all the time and I'm just a bitter old man trying to live my life ."

G: Grillby does make it back to their side of the bar to get Bikeaby another drink and clear away their empty plates.  
"That isn't true, not everyone is flirting. For example." Bikeaby may actually be a little drunk. He turns towards Grillby with a smug look. "Hey, hot stuff."  
"No, thank you."  
"Voila."

S: "You really tried, right in front of Sans, how heartless."   
"Like I care?"   
"Maybe you're jealous."  
"I'm really not....."

G: Kenny flaps a hand at Jawbone, but if Sans is acting fine with it.. They really don't want to bartender to be mad with any of them. "Could I get a glass of water, please?"  
"I'm sorry, I don't touch the stuff. Perhaps milk, instead?"  
Kenny nods, that sounds fine. Didn't their toddy have water in it...?  
"You know, JB, just because you're old doesn't mean you can't flirt."

S: "I never said I wasn't flirting because I'm old . Rude assumption."  
"Then why aren't you?"  
"Because I don't particularly care to...? I mean, if it happens it happens, but there's pretty much no one I'm interested in directly around me."  
"Oh. That's such a.... level _headed_ answer. "  
"Now you're flirting with death, ya little fucker."

G: Bikeaby snorts on a laugh, it almost sounds like a sneeze. "Oh my god, Jawbone, that was a pun. "  
"That was not a pun, it was a play on words."  
"Well who made you the authority, shortstop?"

S: "Yeah, a pun is constructed so that the double meaning is the core of the joke, or the fact the two words sound alike- it's more of a replacement. That was word play, where you spin the phrase back around."  
"Sans, you'are a nerd ."  
"And great at puns."   
"Uuuuggggghhh."

G: It takes a while for them to get settled down after that. Eventually comes the time where the science team are the only people in the bar, aside from Grillby himself, and he's very nearly done cleaning around them.  
"You know. You know." Bikeaby is trashed. "This is really fun, you guys. Like, really, I haven't had fun in a long long long long long long long long long-"  
"Oh my god, get to the point-"  
"..... long _long_ time."  
"I thought you partied, like, every weekend."

S: "Yeah, but Bikeaby doesn't have _fun_ ." Jawbone is also trashed. He's been trying to shoot toothpicks through his straw at the ceiling for like an hour. He's not even getting them close. "Who has fun , us, we do."  
Sans is... well, he's not as far gone as Bikeaby and Jawbone, but it'd be a mistake to call him sober. "Like.... I think. I think honestly you guys are kinda. My only friends??" Wait. "Aside from Grillby, Grillby's great, you're great Grillby."

G: "Thank you, Sans."  
"No, but really, you are such a nice guy, Grillby. Wow, you know? Just wow." Bikeaby almost falls off his barstool even though he's barely moved at all. "I mean, look at you? Puttin' up with our drunk asses all night, bein' just. Just awesome."  
"Bikeaby, you're drunk. Maybe you should chill out a little."  
Bikeaby nods a little, "oooh", and presses a finger to his own mouth to shush himself.  
"As wonderful as you all seem to think I am, it is about time I ask you all to leave. You don't have to go home, but well. You can't stay here."

S: "Not that sonnnnggg." Jawbone seems despairing. "I hate that song."   
"What song?? No." Sans is idly just.... petting Jawbone's head. That seems like a good idea. "We should go home. Grillby's gotta- he's workin hard, we gotta give him a break."  
"I'm not done partying."   
Sans groans. "Well. We're not- you're not coming to my house, my little brother is so asleep."

G: "C'mon, buddy, ol' pal. We can.. We can go to my place, we can party all night." Bikeaby stumbles off his stool and winds up using Jawbone as support. "We're gonna save aaalllll monsters, we can party about it."  
Kenny shakes their head. They are most definitely the most sober (and apparently responsible) of them all. "I'll get them home. Thanks, Grillby, you can put all of this on my card." They'll just get Jawbone to pay them back later.

S: "What, no, I got." Jawbone frowns deeply. "I got it, I had...Ken, you're a pal, you're great."  
Sans throws one of Bikeaby's arms over his shoulder, for what difference it makes with Bikeaby that much taller.... "Maybe I'm - I oughta. Go home. I'm not- maybe I don't wanna party anymore?"  
"What? Whhaaaaat, no, Sans, you gotta come with us, it's great, the whole team- allll of us together, that's why it's fun."

G: "You can go home, Sans," Kenny assures him, "We'll just have a little private party of aaalll the people the doctor can't stand."  
"Oh, yeah, I am down for that. Woohooo, he hates us!"

Grillby takes Bikeaby instead, he has the height to actually do something about it. He helps them to the door, where Kenny assures the bartender that everything is going to be fine.  
"I've done this before."

S: "I don't." Sans is suddenly sad. Kenny didn't have to say that. "I don't think the Doc can't..." This is stupid. Drinking is stupid, he has so many feelings that he doesn't normally have. "I wanna come..."  
"Ken's got us, we got it, we're good." Jawbone doesn't even seem to notice the tone. "Gowan, go home, we'll driiiiink some more, you can sleep or whatever."  
"I mean... I don't. ...... Okay." Sans just kind of accepts it and waves at them out the door before standing there for a second.

G: It's.... kind of funny to watch, but Kenny does actually seem like the have it handled. Grillby finally finishes up his work at the bar, cleaning and sweeping around the area where the team sat. He notices Sans' forlorn look, but he doesn't bring it up until he's finished.  
"You run with an interesting crowd, Sans."

S: "Yeah." Sans kind of just wants to curl up. This is dumb. He was feeling great a little while ago. "I - you know. They're about the only people I talk to. Cause I see em every day. I guess they're. Pretty cool." But that's dumb. He shuffles a little closer to Grillby. "Sorry if we were trouble."

G: "You were a.. rowdy bunch. But hardly the worst I've ever had." Grillby can handle loud and flirtatious just fine. He makes one last drink, a glass of warm milk for Sans. "Here. You'll feel a bit better."

S: Sans accepts it, wrapping both hands around the glass. He sips instead of chugs, knows it'll just make him queasy otherwise. "Sorry. I'm good, I promise, I'm not- I'm not as drunk as I was last time, so that's worth something."

G: "No. But you are sadder."

S: "I was having a good time." It's a shoddy defense. "I thought they liked me. Maybe they do."

G: Grillby flickers and shrugs. "Would they have come with you if they didn't?"

S: "Probably not." Sans sips the last dregs of his milk. It does settle his head a little.... "I should go home." He just feels dumb and lonely. "Sorry. Thanks, G."

G: "Sans."

S: "Grillby?" Very quiet.

G: "Are you alright?"

S: Is he, really? Really really? "I feel lonelier than if I'd just gone home by myself and never hung out."

G: Hm. Grillby gives him another half-glass. "And why do you feel lonely?"

S: "I don't know." This is dumb. Sans leans on Grillby. He's warm... "Do I have to know why? I just feel lonely."

G: "There aren't many of my kind, either." It may seem like it comes out of nowhere, but Grillby heard them discussing it earlier in the evening. "And we are very spread out. But neither you nor I are alone."

S: Sans takes one more long sip. "I have people I talk to. The Doc is nice to me, even. Maybe even likes me better than the others, I guess. I have my brother. You're here. I don't- I'm not alone ." But sometimes he feels like it.

G: "It's alright, Sans." Grillby sits on the barstool next to him and props himself up with his elbows on the bar. "You are allowed to be unhappy, you know."

S: Sans leans a little heavier on him and lets his eyes close. "I don't have any reason to be."

G: He shrugs very gently so as not to disturb Sans too much. "You don't have to. No more than you must have a reason to feel lonely."

S: Sans buries his face in the warm fabric of Grillby's sleeve. He smells so good.... "How are you so good at this?"

G: "Years as a bartender tends to make one quite empathetic, believe it or not."

S: "Good job with that. You really- you really nailed it." Sans is just smelling him now... He smells like a bonfire and good whiskey.

G: Grillby shifts an arm to drape around Sans' shoulders. He heats up just a little, flickering a bit. "You can tell me when things are wrong, Sans."

S: Sans laughs into Grillby's shirt. "Man. You're......." He's something. "Would it be too needy to ask you to come home with me?"

G: "Needy? No. But are you sure that's what you'd like?"

S: Is it? "I don't wanna be alone."

G: "Then I'll come home with you."  
Grillby shuts down the bar, a necessity he wasn't afforded last time this happened. He walks Sans home and makes sure to be very quiet going up the stairs.

S: Sans kicks laundry in the vague direction of the basket and flattens his sheets by lying on them. He kicks his shoes off wherever they'll go, throws his hoodie over the headboard, and scoots over as much as he can to make space for Grillby. God.... ugh.

G: Grillby collapses down into his core, leaving his clothes behind, and flickers up over the edge of Sans' bed. "You have to go back into work tomorrow, don't you?" His voice is a little less focused like this, not coming from a voicebox so much as from his flame, his core, the heat he throws off.

S: He casts the coolest shadows on Sans's wall. "Yeah. I do." He doesn't want to. At least he won't be the most hung over.

G: "I can make breakfast, if you'd like. My speciality is hangover food."

S: "Oh my god. I could kiss you if either of us had lips."

G: Grillby grows a little, crackling and popping along the length of Sans' side. "Last time you didn't want for me to wait around. I'll ask again in the morning."

S: It'll be awkward dealing with Papyrus.... but.... well, Papyrus doesn't have to know anything except that Grillby is making them breakfast. God, and he's warm.   
"Answer's yes for now."

G: "Alright, Sans. Get some rest." Grillby settles, as well, dimming down to nearly nothing.

S: It's, at least, easy to sleep when he's warm and he has company and he's still drunk. There's always that. He conks out pretty quick.

G: Grillby isn't really one to do someone's chores twice in a row, so he winds up just resting next to Sans all night. When the time seems appropriate, he slips out and downstairs to put together something for breakfast.

S: Somehow Sans wakes up feeling weirder for having invited Grillby to spend the night without having sex. He stumbles up in the morning, groggy, nauseous, head pounding. He shuffles down the stairs, listening out for the sounds of breakfast and/or Papyrus.

G: "Did you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day?"  
"Why yes, I did indeed."  
"Sometimes we have to skip it, though, but that's alright! The Great Papyrus has boundless energy and stamina to make it through!"  
Grillby is showing Papyrus how to properly fry an egg, without the heat set too high. "Even if your brother doesn't, hm?"  
"Sans should definitely eat breakfast more.."

S: "Wouldn't you know it, I am mysteriously here." God, that smells good. "Oh my god, I didn't even know we had bacon."

G: "You didn't. This is from the restaurant."  
"Mister Grillby was in our house!"

S: "Who woulda thought." Sans is too hung over to feign too much surprise. "He must've known how bad I wanted bacon." Good god.

G: Grillby hums and fills a plate with bacon and eggs. "This one is for you, Papyrus."  
"Thank you! The Great Papyrus will repay your kindness and generosity! Eventually."

S: "Maybe the Great Papyrus can make one of his special recipes for you." Sans makes eye contact.... er, eye to glasses contact- with Grillby over Papyrus's head and hopes his expression serves as sufficient warning.

G: Oh, he doubts it's that bad. "That sounds like a good idea. Now, Sans, how do you like your eggs?"  
Papyrus seems enamored with his breakfast, perhaps startled that bacon is cooked at other levels aside from blackened.

S: "Shit, there are different ways? Uh...." What's a good way? "Runny?" Man, this smells amazing... it's worth the sadness and the hangover and inviting Grillby over and not even doing it, just for this.

G: "Over-easy it is, then." Grillby gets to frying it while Papyrus pours a glass of ice water for Sans.  
"Mister Grillby said you'd need this! I'm gonna go get ready for school."

S: Oh, God, his skull DOES feel like sand, doesn't it? That water looks so good. "Thank you so much, Pap. G'wan, get ready. I'll be....heading out to work. After."

G: Grillby listens until he hears Papyrus' door shut upstairs and sets Sans' plate down in front of him. "He's a good kid."

S: "Yeah. Yeah, he is." Sans could just plant his face in his plate.... He eats like a civilized monster instead. "He's great. Probably the best brother anyone could ask for."

G: "Very forgiving, if his reaction to my intrusion is anything to go by." Papyrus had been surprised at first.. then he simply assumed Grillby was supposed to be there.

S: "He has a lot to forgive." Like his brother being a negligent guardian. "I don't know why I was so worried about it last time. He... he'd let me tell him anything, not cause he's naive but cause he's a good kid , you know?"

G: Grillby pours Sans another glass, this one filled with orange juice.   
"He has a good monster to look up to."

S: "Don't say that." Sans rests his forehead in his hand and crunches into bacon. Sorrowfully. "I really- he. I really should be better."

G: "You're doing quite well, from what I understand." Grillby pours salt into their skillet to scrub out all the spots. "You're getting a degree, you're working under the king's own royal scientist, to free monsterkind from the underground no less. You're providing for your brother and yourself all on your own. I know many who are much older and still have not achieved most of those things."

S: Sans pillows his head on his arms and laughs softly.   
"You gotta quit doing that or I'll. I dunno. I'll end up always asking you to be this positive." God, that OJ smells good though.... He takes a big sip.

G: "You seem the type to need a little positivity."

S: "Not to need...." Shit, this is the awkward part. The part where he talks about feelings . "I don't wanna need _someone_ . Does that.... sound shitty? Probably. I mean- you're. I like- I just-" 

G: Grillby gently pats Sans' shoulder.   
"I don't mean to imply you start any sort of relationship. After all, you have a fount of it right at home." He takes away the empty plate and salt-cleans it as well. "Forgive me for prying."

S: "No. Sorry." Sans buries his head in his arms pillowed on the table. "This is dumb, I didn't mean to jump there. I like you, Grillby. And- this. Whatever this is. How it is. You're nice to me. I'm cool with that. I didn't mean to act- defensive." UUugh, he's too hung over to deal with his own mess.

G: "There's no need for this to go anywhere you're uncomfortable with, and I won't try to take you there." He finally sits in the chair opposite Sans. "This is fine with me. But I did say I would start looking out for you, and you seemed quite enamoured with the idea."

S: Sans finally looks up at him. He's sure he looks as bad as he feels; he's always running so ragged on sleep, and that's when he isn't hung over to boot. Grillby looks- great. Composed. Then again, he doesn't need sleep, does he?   
Truth be told, Sans has never been taken care of . He knows most monsters have- families, partners, whoever. Someone to make sure they eat and sleep and smile.   
"I was....am, pretty enamored with it, yeah."

G: Grillby nods and crackles. The sound seems pleased.   
"Then I will be here, whenever you need me to be."

S: Sans rubs at one eye socket with the heel of his hand.   
"I don't even know what I need." But he likes- knowing . That he could ask. Even if he isn't sure if he would or even what to ask for. Sex? Food? Company? Someone to cry on about how hard it is to be young? Whatfuckingever.

G: "You'll figure it out." Grillby pats one of Sans' hands. "Have another glass of juice and take two pain relievers. You should feel a little better, though you won't be one hundred percent."

S: "I'll at least be at a higher percentage than the rest of the team." Well, maybe not Kenny. Do they even get hangovers? Sans has a feeling their metabolism is a lot faster than everyone else's. He swallows the two painkillers quick and washes it down with a lot of juice. "So, uhm. Since we're already- since I'm already worn down enough to apparently talk about things ." 

G: "Yes, Sans?"

S: "So. I- I guess it's just. ....I don't expect this to be one of those kind of exclusive things. Like, if you want to take care of some other tumultuous twentysomething skeleton, you can. However you like. Or sleep with whoever. So long as- that's mutual?" 

G: "Worried I'll get jealous?" Grillby is laughing just a little. "I know what this is, Sans, you needn't worry about me getting possessive."

S: "Okay. Cool." Sans snorts unattractively. "I've never done anything like this before. I just wanna make sure."

G: "Well. I do hope we can make it a pleasant experience for you, Sans."  
Papyrus' door opens upstairs, and he hops down the steps two at a time. "Sans, did you see! I got my secret training homework!" He hops into the kitchen holding up a sheet of paper for his brother to see.

S: "Whoah, lemme see." Sans sits up straighter, blinking away the drowsiness and nausea that comes with the movement. He makes a note to send Ms. Angora a whole basket of- something. Mushrooms? Mushrooms are nice. "This looks pretty good, bud. How's it going? Feel that training workin' your brain muscles?"

G: Papyrus pfffts and waves a hand. "This is easy stuff. The way you were talking, I thought this was supposed to challenge the Great Papyrus." He scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should inform teacher she will have to try harder to trip me up.."

S: "You know, maybe." Actually, if he's done this well while having difficulty, he can probably manage a little more on his plate once he's doing his homework with more ease....   
Well. Sans doesn't want to push him too hard. No need for him to be exhausted all the time like Sans is. Or get burnt out..... "But I'd say give this training a little while to sink in first. Then you can start flexing your muscles even harder."

G: "Hmm, that's true! Even the lessons that seem simple could have hidden depth." Papyrus takes his homework back and kind of... wiggles it over his head. "I'm heading to school, brother. Thank you for breakfast, Mister Grillby!"

"My pleasure, Great Papyrus."  
Papyrus flushes a little, but he's grinning and laughing under his breath as he goes to grab his backpack. Nyeheh..

S: "Hey, you got lunch money, right?" Sans calls after him, even though speaking that loud kinda jars his head. UUgh. "Have a good day at school, kiddo, stay safe!"

G: "Have fun doing a science!"  
Grillby crackles a laugh and waves goodbye as Papyrus heads out the door. He is _such_ a good kid.

S: "How'd I manage to luck out like that with him?" Sans is more talking to himself than anything. "A sad sack like me who isn't around for three quarters of his life, and he's this- like- incredible kid." ... "God, I sound like a dad ."

G: "You're his guardian. It's natural to worry over how you're raising him, how he's doing when you aren't there."

S: This is a strange question....   
"You got any family, G? Siblings? .......... Kids?"

G: Grillby hums, fizzes, as he sets his chin in his palm. "I have a daughter."

S: Sans splutters on his orange juice a little.   
"Really?" He .... shouldn't be shocked. Grillby's older than him, after all, it's just. Huh. Wow. "So. You're a single parent." He's never actually asked Grillby a lot of questions about his life. That seems so selfish now.... "You must be a lot better at this than me."

G: "She is very independent. I can't say for certain whether I'm a good parent or not, though. I can only hope and try." Grillby seems like he's smiling even though he doesn't actually have any facial expressions.

S: "You're... really cool, G. I'm like 300% positive you're a great dad." Sans finishes up his orange juice. Ugh, he probably needs to get going..... "I really. I really appreciate all this. And talking."

G: "Anytime, Sans. Truly." Grillby takes the dishes to the sink, though he doesn't stick around to wash them. He has preparation for the bar to take care of, and Sans no doubt needs to get to work. "Take care of yourself. Or come to me."

S: "I'll try." On both. "Thanks, Grillby. See you later." Sans hesitates a second, grabs Grillby's hand and gives it a squeeze. He's not really solid enough for a lot of squeeze, but it's nice. "Thanks again." He makes sure to let go of him before he takes the quick way to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, mostly because the next section couldn't as easily be divided up. Despite this being a Sanster fic, my Sansby bias is showing pretty hard- as is my multishipping poly clusterfuck tendencies.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster and Sans discuss his thesis, and later take a walk.

G: The lab feels like a hangover. Bikeaby looks to be bearing the brunt of it, mostly because he's the one most actively working.  
Gaster seems to appreciate the quiet, though, and his helping hands are busy around the lab.  
  
S: "G'morning."  
Jawbone doesn't even speak to Sans, just slides a stack of papers over to him before returning to bug-checking with narrowed, tired eyes.  
Yeah, Sans feels that. He does feel substantially better after breakfast, though. "Right. Kay then."  
  
G: "Morning, Sans." Kenny is much better off than the rest of them. "Ready for this?"  
Gaster lifts his head. His pupils are bright and large, and his hands carefully deposit circuitry by Sans. The finished chassis is polished and shiny and ready for its guts to be installed.  
  
S: Least the Doc looks cheery... well, and Kenny. Sans stifles a yawn behind his hand and nods slowly, looking through the circuitry carefully and matching up pieces with the schematics Jawbone slid his way. It's going to be a lot of intensive, careful work... and it doesn't seem like anyone is in the mood to chat with him to keep him sane during it.  
Ah, well. Should be rewarding nonetheless. "Sleep well, Doc?"  
  
G: Rather than speaking, Gaster signs. _Like the dead_. And he managed to finish all the work he set out to do during his sleepless binge.  
"Oh thank god, we're still not talking.." Bikeaby is delighted. He already has to deal with the computer screens being bright..  
  
S: This sits way better with Sans, anyways. He takes a minute to sign before he starts laying out circuits and where they'll need to go in the casing. _So long as you aren't dead. Unlike the rest of us._ He chuckles under his breath.  
  
G: _Seems like you all had fun._ It's unclear how Gaster can read Sans' signing without lifting his head, probably some use of magic.  
  
S: Sans could use an extra pair of hands to sign while he works.... He hasn't really figured out how to conjure those with magic yet, though. He does, however, figure out that he can lift and place things with blue magic, and that clears him up to chat. Nice.  
_You should come next time. Relax, have some drinks._ It's.... actually a sincere invitation, though the rest of the team would probably hate it if they knew he was extending it.  
  
G: Gaster chuckles to himself. _If that involves winding up anything like Bikeaby, no thank you._  
Kenny looks between them, but they can't understand Gaster's signs.. It's a rare lesson, apparently.  
  
S: _Ok, well, Bikeaby is a cautionary tale._ Sans snickers, shifting things around with magic. He can actually get pretty precise with the movements if he focuses.... _I bet you'd have fun._  
  
G: _I do not often drink. It has been a while._ Sans is getting a lot of practice with this today, isn't he?  
  
S: He doesn't attempt any of the delicate stuff, but he does start some of the attachments. Hell, if he really focuses he can turn screws.... It's kind of a practical lesson, all because he wants to talk. Hm. Gaster is a good teacher, he guesses.  
_I can't imagine you drunk. L O L ._  
  
G: "Can I tell you guys how creepy that weird twin-speak is?"  
"There is an error in your eighty-sixth line of code. Be sure to fix it before you implement it, and both of you pay more attention to your checking."  
_Perhaps you aren't trying hard enough?_  
  
S: Jawbone groans and scrolls back up to line 86. "Shit, he's right."  
"Anyways, it's ASL, it's not that hard to learn."  
"Speak for yourself, I can't speak it even if I learned." Jawbone rests his forehead on the cool table. Ah. Soothing.  
Oh.... Sans grins sheepishly. True.  
_Should I try harder? I'll imagine you're a wild drunk. Dancing on tables, right?_  
  
G: "Thank you, Jawbone. I do appreciate everyone's hard work." Whoa... That's rare.  
It seems to be enough to settle down the frustration evident on Kenny's face. They settle down a little, back to carefully attaching the tiny fiddly bits of circuitry rather than trying to decipher the silent conversation.  
_Perhaps. I have never drank enough to know._  
  
S: Damn, he really is in a good mood. It even quells Jawbone's low-level crankiness, at least a little. Enough for him to go back and re-read a few lines of code, triple-check.  
Sans smiles to himself as he signs and continues screwing in circuitboards.  
_Aw, Doc. You're so well behaved compared to us slackers._  
  
G: _Don't tell everyone that, they may start to believe it._  
Silence suits the lab, Gaster thinks. Silence suits most situations, though it's so hard to come by.  
  
S: _Should I tell them you're a wild party animal instead?_  
Sans snickers. He actually tightens a few screws by hand after he finishes signing; he needs to make sure they're secure. Maybe eventually he'll be good enough with magic control to do this all hands-free...  
  
G: _I think you'd need proof, first.  
_  
S: Is Sans flirting? Is this flirting? Lord, help him.  
_How about we get drinks, then?_  
  
G: _So I can end up like the more unfortunate members of my team, you included? No, I'd rather not._ That sounds awful, in fact.  
  
S: Aaaand attempt crashed and burned. Well. Sans can't say he's never tried.  
_Probably..... smart. Well, I guess I have to say you're responsible, then._  
  
G: He could laugh, poor thing. Sans is respectful, at least, and always has been.  
_There is nothing wrong with having a little fun._  
  
S: _I guess the idea is college is when you're supposed to do it, right?_ He tightens a few more screws.  
_No excuse for all the adults, though. L O L ._ He's mostly kidding.  
  
G: _You are still in college. Seems the perfect time._  
"You two have me curious, practically grinnin' and shit. This is simultaneously incredible and boring to sit through."  
  
S: Sans uses a little magic to flick a paper ball at Bikeaby. "You were the one who didn't want anyone to talk because you were dying."  
"Yeah, that was before we got left out of a conversation, though."  
"Dude, it's nothing. I'm just talking about- college shit."  
"Ohhh. Top secret thesis work, huh? That's why you're grinning like that?"  
"I get giddy thinking about graduating."  
  
G: "I am acting as Sans' advisor. Signing keeps the conversation going while preventing an excess of distraction for the rest of you."  
Bikeaby wobbles a hand, a so-so motion. "Mostly it just makes me curious. You guys makin' plans? Gonna do some science on the down-low?"  
_Which reminds me. We do need another session with the blasters._  
"Ooooo, look at that, just signing away."  
  
S: "You wanna hear out loud about how I completed those credit hours of fine arts, cause I can talk to you about the macaroni art I made and called minimalist neo-regression into childhood, I've got my whole artist statement still memor-"  
"Don't, I hate this, I hate you, quit talking."  
"See?" Sans switches back to sign.  
_We should have another session soon. I think getting cozier with magic will help a lot. And I'm obviously practicing. ... Like, right now_.  
  
G: _Obviously! Very good._  
"I think the two of you need a water break." It's the first time Kenny's talked in a while, and they are still absorbed in the teeny tiny pieces they're assembling and placing. Slow going.  
"You know, that's.... Oh god, that's a really great idea, I am a desert over here."  
  
S: "Fine." Jawbone seems loathe to move his head off the table. "God. I wanna.... drink two gallons." He ducks underground, presumably to emerge where the water is.  
  
G: "Waaiit, take me with you.." Bikeaby half-stumbles out of his chair and makes to follow Jawbone to the kitchen upstairs.  
Which leaves the three of them just awkwardly sitting...  
"I think I prefer Bikeaby when he is silent."  
Kenny snorts in response, covering their mouth with one little hand.  
  
S: "I wonder how much it would take to buy his silence." Sans laughs softly. He's still using magic to work, but it's largely so he can multitask and work behind himself to adjust and fix. "Probably....not much...."  
  
G: Kenny laughs again. "You'd just need a six pack and a pretty glass pipe. He'd be putty."  
"Silent putty?"  
"If you ask, yeah, probably."  
_Well I know what I am doing for Giftmas this year.  
_  
S: _Damn, how would I top that?_ Sans laughs under his breath and carefully threads a connector through to where it needs to go. "Least Bikeaby is simple. Something kinda admirable about being so predictable." Sort of.  
  
G: "Admirable, I'm sure that's the word for it." Kenny snickers under their breath again.  
Gaster finally snaps the control panel closed on their new sensor, now all it needs is the completed code and the sensitivity tuned up. "Predictability is not necessarily a bad thing in our line."  
  
S: "Predictable means consistent, right? And we wanna be consistent." Sans yawns. Ugh, using that much magic has kinda worn him out even more.....  
  
G: _You just got here, already tired?_  
"Man, I hope they don't crash out in the kitchen.." It took a good bit of work to convince Bikeaby not to come into the lab with sunglasses.. There isn't even a sun.  
  
S: _Magic takes more outta me than I first realized._ He still works through it.  
"What, no union regulated Scientist Nap Time today?" Sans grins at Kenny.  
  
G: "Probably not while we're supposed to be writing code."  
  
S: "Damn." He laughs softly anyways. "If you want, I can go grab em." He needs coffee anyhow.  
  
G: Gaster takes another peek through the coding, though it is currently unfinished. He can read it well enough, but Bikeaby is far better at writing it. "I would prefer a coffee. If you are offering."  
  
S: "Absolutely." Sans stands up, bones creaky, stretches and rattles. "You want one too, Kenny?"  
  
G: "Yeah, thanks."  
Gaster sends a couple of hands along with Sans in order to help out. He knows, objectively, that he should probably be using them for more important things. But things are just easier with them.  
  
S: He's amused by the company, but Sans doesn't comment. He moseys upstairs, starts making coffee, handing mugs to the hands to hold while he pours.  
  
G: Bikeaby steals one from the hands, and they seem mildly offended. "Hey, I need this more than you guys. You don't even have a mouth." He adds so much cream that it probably doesn't properly count as coffee anymore.  
  
S: "Oh shit, Sans, where's my mug? Make me some too."  
"Making you coffee takes forever ." Jawbone's mug is closer to a bucket, in all actuality.... Sans drags it out anyways. "How many sugars?"  
"None, gimme that shit black."  
"Suit yourself." He signs at the hands. _Cream and sugar, doc?_  
  
  
G: _One sugar and no cream._ They steal away the cups already made so no one can take them.  
"You still gettin' chummy with the doc?" Bikeaby prods at the hand trying to snatch his coffee back.  
  
S: Sans dumps in one sugar and stirs as he talks. "I'm talking to the doc, I don't see how that constitutes getting chummy ."  
"Yeah, whatever. We see you grinning and shit."  
"Man, just because you're hung over doesn't mean I have to put up with you being this cranky. Have your coffee." Sans sits the huge mug in front of Jawbone.  
  
G: "Like you wouldn't put a ring on it." Bikeaby snickers even as the hand he's fighting with pinches at him.  
  
S: "Like he wouldn't put a ring on every hand and then some."  
"I'm pouring the next coffee over both your heads."  
"Defensive?"  
"Scuse you. I came up to make coffee and have a good time, not be bullied by the hangover squad."  
  
G: Bikeaby leans down to the hand and murmurs. "You notice he ain't denying i-ow! Little asshole!"  
He deserved that thump.  
  
S: "You were asking for that." Sans finishes his own cup of coffee and hands the others off to Gaster's hands. "You guys know the Doc can see and hear through these, right?"  
  
G: "Kinky."  
  
S: "You guys are the worst." Sans rolls his eyes. Well, his pupils. "I'm leaving with coffee. Keep your heads out of the gutter."  
"My head has to be in the gutter if I'm in the gutter."  
"Ugh." Sans leaves with the hands and coffee.  
  
G: "Wait, wait, I'm coming back." Bikeaby drains the last of his coffee with a quick tilt of his head. "You think the doc's gonna be mad at me?"  
  
S: "I mean, he's in a good mood. Keep doing good at the coding and I'm sure he'll be fine."  
Sans arrives back with coffee. Signs at Gaster. _How's it going?_  
  
G: _Same as it was going before. Interesting conversation._  
"Now why would I be angry, Bikeaby?"  
"Cause you hate me, of course."  
Gaster shrugs, but he doesn't try to deny it.  
  
S: Sans flushes. Signs back.  
_don't pay attention to anything they say, they're just picking at me._  
  
G: _Oh, I never pay attention to anything Bikeaby says._  
Bikeaby returns to the coding and circuitry looking a lot better off than he did before. "There isn't much left on this, G. Maybe another hour or two."  
"Thank you, I knew I could trust you in this."  
_Jawbone, on the other hand.._  
  
S: Shiiiiiit. Sans recalls a few comments... _Uh, he's just messing with me too._  
Speak of the devil. Jawbone pops back up, yawning. "I'm bug checking lines ninety through where you're at now, B."  
  
G: _Of course he is._  
Endearing is a word for it, maybe.  
"What comes after this, doctor Gaster?" Kenny has itchy hands with nothing much to do.  
"More testing, of course." Gaster sounds alright with that.. "Since the king put his foot down concerning how we treat the souls, it is going to take incredible precision."  
  
S: Sans scrunches down into his hoodie, suddenly at a loss for anything to sign. Hm. Better just speak. "We'll need to calibrate it to hell and back, won't we? Delicate fiddly work."  
  
G: "Incredibly. Oodles of testing, it is going to be absolutely nervewracking."  
Kenny actually has to lift their head to give Gaster a strange look. "You... don't seem as angry about that as usual."  
"Oh, I am furious! But fighting it would take longer than simply working through it."  
  
S: He hopes this..... holds up, honestly.  
"Well." Jawbone looks up from bug checking. "That's.... pretty inspiring, honestly."  
Actually, yeah. Sans gets back to attaching connectors.  
"I've got this covered. Is there anything we need to prep for testing?"  
  
G: Gaster shrugs again, he's doing a good bit of that today. "We need the coding and the sensors updated. We are working in steps, here."  
Bikeaby huffs a little. "I'm working as fast as I can, boss, I promise."  
"Oh, I am aware."  
"Jeeze, Gaster, are you fuckin' high? This... bright and cheerful thing is kind of freaking me out."  
  
S: Sans actually does sign, then, just a little. _I'm actually surprised, too, you seemed worn down yesterday._  
"Look, I know not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Don't push your luck either, B."  
  
G: "Hey, I'm not exactly complaining here.. Just, uh. Wondering if it's something I should try to get used to."  
"Oh, I should say not."  
"Well, okay, thanks for clearing that up for me."  
Kenny giggles a little behind a hand. The lab seems... safer, in a strange way. Just right now.  
  
S: It's hard not to get caught up in. They've experienced giddy, driven, excited Gaster- but relaxed, easygoing Gaster is something new entirely. Sans finds himself at ease, smiley. Even with the hangover. Makes it easier to work peaceful through the day.  
  
G: Bikeaby finishes his work about when he says he will and gets to fine-tuning the sensors while Jawbone scrutinizes his code. Since Kenny essentially has nothing to do aside from sit on their hands, they wind up helping.  
It's rare for Gaster to be doing nothing, it makes him uncomfortable, so he simply switches focus from his own projects to Sans'.  
_I think I recall seeing you going through your data. Anything interesting?_  
  
S: Sans is essentially finished with the circuitry, aside from some soldering. He solders carefully between signs, creating some odd pauses.  
_Found some. Pretty interesting aspects. Of course there are. Multiple fields that increase. But I'm narrowing it. Down._  
  
G: _I would very much like to see it, if you'll allow it._ Gaster settles by Sans simply so he doesn't have to sign over the length of the lab.  
_I will be the first to admit I have personal stake in this._  
  
S: _Yeah, absolutely._ Sans finishes up the last of the sautering.  
_I hope it's at least sufficient progress. I know this project is important to you._ Sans pauses a second, checks a connector. _It's important to me, too._  
  
G: Gaster chuckles dryly. It's still easy, though, still laid-back. _Because I hoisted this responsibility on you, or because you actually have some stake in me personally?_  
  
S: Sans flushes, scrunching down in the hoodie a little.  
_Maybe a little personal. Don't take it the wrong way. I just admire you. Wanna help._  
  
G: _That really is flattering, you know._  
S: Sans can't retreat any further into his hoodie without disappearing. _Well. You know._  
  
G: _I know._  
Gaster's hands fall still for a while, and he just watches the delicate work his other assistants are doing for a few minutes. When he comes back, it's with a sudden jerk much like he almost fell asleep.  
_Keeping my own fingers out of your project is difficult. Don't allow me to nose in on it.|_  
  
S: Sans is still for a while, just... quiet. Everything feels solid and bright and oddly optimistic. Sans has never really experienced sunlight, but he thinks it's like how today in the lab must feel, have felt.  
_I know you have a lot of stake in it. I'm not entirely objective either. But hey_. He snickers. _We don't have noses, so it'll be fine.  
_  
G: Gaster smiles, and it does manage to be warm. Even if it isn't directed towards anyone. _I have faith in you._  
  
S: That bright and warm feeling again. Sans fiddles with the cord on the sautering iron.  
_Thank you._ He clears his throat. _I should probably start work on that, since I'm finished with this.  
_  
G: _Feeling pressured?_  
  
S: _More like I can't be useful over there, so I might as well do something, right?_ He inclines his head to where Bikeaby and Kenny and Jawbone are working.  
  
G: _Well, that's true. For once I am the one twiddling my thumbs.  
_  
S: Sans hesitates as he stands up and dusts off his hoodie.  
_Well, you could work with me. I know you don't want me letting you poke into it too much, but... you are an integral part of the project._

G: _And what would you want me for?_   Gaster is very nearly so tall that he almost doesn't have to look up when Sans stands.  
  
S: _Well, I could run a few more scans. Do some more questionnaires, although I know you're sick of em. And there's always plodding through data with me.  
_  
G: _Exciting_. Still, Gaster stands to follow behind Sans. _Though I think I must warn you of something, Sans. This really is your project. I am not going to contribute, so much as I can help it.  
_  
S: Sans nods, very briefly. Signing is just easier at this point than speaking, even though they're headed out of the room and the rest of the science team is nearly out of earshot.  
_I don't expect you to hold my hand. Besides, this is my chance to prove myself as a scientist. I wanna push myself._  
  
G: Gaster briefly pats one of Sans' shoulders. He knows, completely objectively, that he would prefer doing this himself. Gaster is.. fastidious. Obsessive. He is fully aware of the levels of intensity he sometimes reaches. But this is about him.  
At the same time, it would perhaps be best to leave it to someone else for precisely those reasons.. It's Sans' worry, now.  
_That is what will make you an excellent scientist._  
  
S: Sans gets set up in a relatively quiet lab room and starts picking out data and areas he needs to work with. He pulls out the human souls' charts, the one he's got for Gaster, and the ones they took for themselves to compare to the human souls.  
He shuffles them around with magic while he signs, mostly talking to himself.  
_We know I'm the one HP wonder, so I didn't much pay attention to the fact that your HP was much higher than mine, but when I look at the rest of the team, I notice yours is much higher than theirs, too. On average. So, I started studying it in humans, and I noticed that - when you look at the full timeline of changes in them- a whole cluster of core values started increasing at the same time. The same ones are pretty high on you, too- most of them are trackable. A. T. K, D. E. F, the base stuff. There's two I don't have any pre-existing knowledge for, though._ He's rambling, hands moving quick, knuckles creaking a little.  
  
G: Gaster hums in place of a laugh, his fingertips tapping close to his molars.  
"Oh, this is exciting, isn't it?" And just a bit terrifying, when he thinks about it. He looks through the charts as Sans indicates points of data and can immediately see the correlating patterns. That is... troubling.  
  
S: "So I started comparing the human data." Sans actually feels his voice creak a little. He's still coming off a hangover, after all, and he's been signing instead of taking nearly all day. He pushes through it. "And the base information I had about them. So- I have a theory." He picks out a chart where he's heavily scrawled notes, some in code and some in his usual handwriting. "There's a formula, I think, for- the numbers all increase based on a certain value. I'm nearly positive it has to do with kill count. The....the more monsters a human.... kills , the harder they are to kill themself." He swallows. "I think it's the same for us."  
  
G: Gaster reads through Sans' notes, his pupils the only part of his that moves. It makes sense. It needs to be confirmed, but it makes sense.  
"You will need to look into this properly. Compare actual death toll and funeral counts with for each human." Which will be difficult in some cases, he knows.  
  
S: "Yeah. I need to get into the Capital for the public records building, pull some files there. I need to draw up that data, and timeline out the humans. But I have a hypothesis to test now." He's.... not looking forward to reading all those obituaries and records, seeing the names of all those dead monsters.  
  
G: "This is good work you're doing, Sans." Though there is a lot ahead of him.  
  
S: "It could help a lot of monsters." And.... Sans laughs softly. "It could help you."  
  
G: Gaster presses his palms together, thinking. Today is a good day, he knows. What he doesn't know is why that is. Does he feel particularly kind, particularly easy?  
No.  
Not really, not today. Today he doesn't feel much of anything at all.  
"I would like that."  
  
S: Sans starts listing down the info he'll need to take to the Capital. Dates, regions. He's going to have to collect a lot of data.... "I want to- I know you don't care, but I want to apologize. About the others jokes, and- this is off track and unimportant, wow. Never mind. I'm... I need to go to the Capital."  
  
G: "What is it you want to say?"  
  
S: Shit. Sans laughs. "Everyone has made jokes- they keep picking on me, and- it's probably kind of obvious, isn't it? I have a - I mean. ....Just, don't think." Where is he going with this? "I'm young and dumb and obvious, and I just wanna tell you that it won't interfere with science or - you know. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."  
  
G: Gaster shrugs noncommittally. "I still work with Kenny." Because Kenny contributes a huge chunk to their work and research. But when he thinks about it, Gaster thinks he may genuinely enjoy having them around the lab.  
Even if they try to be his lap dog half the time.  
  
S: Sans snorts, awkward. "I....point taken." Did he hope it would go differently? That Gaster would somehow admit that he liked Sans, liked his attention? Well... this works, too. "True. I just- meant for it to be subtler. And not for you to find out like this."  
  
G: "Oh, Sans." It really is flattering, but Gaster doesn't care for it to go further than that. "You think you're so sly."  
  
S: He would flush if he had skin. He scrunches down. "Am I not sly?" This is awful. Why did he open his mouth.  
  
G: "You are so sly." Gaster winks and lifts Sans' hood so he can hide a little better. "But so am I."  
  
S: Sans laughs, sharp and desperate and pathetic. His hood feels like the safest place in the world right now. And Gaster's wink is killing him a little. "Tell me about it."  
  
G: "Maybe some other time. For now, you've work to do."  
  
S: "I do." Sans tugs his hood down. "I better get to it."  
  
G: "You are a good scientist, Sans. I cannot imagine that changing just because of some confession or another." Gaster pats one of Sans' shoulders and returns to the main lab to check everyone's progress.  
  
S: Sans holds a hand over the spot for a second before he finally shrugs his hood off and takes a shortcut to the Capital. There's work to do, no time to pine.  
Or, at least, he can pine while he works.

* * *

  
G: The sensors will take several days of tune-ups, simply through the process of their research. Run tests, narrow the search, run tests, narrow the search, troubleshoot somewhere in there. It's a long process, but there winds up being a lot of empty air and free time through it. Kenny was right, the machines do most of the work.  
Gaster starts getting antsy two days into it. Twitchy hands, no sleep. It's coming on faster, this time.  
"The sensors need time, even with the tightened parameters. Rushing them is just going to screw us over."  
The frustration is palpable, and Bikeaby's ears are laid flat while he combs through his coding yet again.  
  
S: "Look, it's a lot of dead air, but we don't have any other projects running." Jawbone is used to the storm, but the calm before it threw him off a little. And how quickly it hit. The problem is that Gaster doesn't have anything to keep his hands busy, and he's the worst like this. "We're going as fast as we can without making any errors. This is delicate work."  
  
G: The funny thing is that Gaster hasn't said much of anything. It's the way he moves, jerky and crooked, how he stands to pace every once in a while. Every so often, they can hear his teeth grind.  
"It's.. It's still progress, doctor. A ton of progress, if we think about it!" Kenny puts on a false cheerfulness because it's the only thing they can think to do. "After all, once this is done- properly - we can start synthesizing this.. stuff that the humans have."  
  
S: The thing is that Sans has been working in the downtime, on his thesis, but it's nothing Gaster can do. He's been combing through microfilm in the capital, compiling obituaries, putting together lists of the dead.  
It is.... extraordinarily depressing work.  
So he's not exactly feeling it, either. Or he is feeling it, too much. Gaster's irritation and impatience feel sharp and heavy on his spine, everyone's talking and walking on eggshells oppressive. He knows things are going back downhill. He doesn't want them to.  
"We're already down to within five values." Jawbone knows that isn't as low a number as Gaster wants. There's no telling how many tests, adjustments, tests, adjusments, ad nauseum it will take to knock off even one of those values. "Once we've got it, we've got it."  
  
G: "Got it, god." Bikeaby reloads the coding into the sensors and sets them up to run again. The problem is with every fine-tuning, the programs take longer to run, longer to find what the hell they're looking for. Progress stretches on into empty hours. Gaster eventually abandons the lab, his skull hung low between his shoulders, and the team breathes just the tiniest bit easier.  
"I don't know if I can handle him skulking around."  
"Maybe we could petition the king to give him a short vacation.."  
"Yeah, you remember the last time we tattled on him? No thanks, dude."  
  
S: _Skullking._ Ha. Sans rubs his eye socket, worn down from digging through death records. "He needs something to keep him busy, not a vacation." Not that it's a good idea to encourage Gaster's..... obsessiveness, but he will only spiral worse if bored and unoccupied.  
"He knows better than to accept us throwing him a bone and giving him busy work. It's never worked before."  
"Then... I don't know. A side project?"  
"Isn't that something for you to do, Sans? You're the one doing all this secret science with him."  
"I...." Admittedly, he does have multiple projects with Gaster that the others don't know much about. Like the blaster... "I'm trying to work on my thesis."  
"Like you suddenly developed work ethic out of nowhere."  
  
G: Kenny seems about as tired as Sans, but they still try to put on a decent face. "Come on, the last thing we need is to start going at each others' throats. Now that the doctor is gone we can all take a deep breath and a few minutes to collect ourselves."  
Bikeaby scoffs, the edges of it sharp and rude. "Says you. I'm the one who's gonna lose my damn head if I screw this up."  
  
S: "That's why you're not screwing up, I've got your back." Jawbone slurps coffee through a straw. He's probably had too much, he's jittery, but eh. "Sorry. Sans." It's begrudging, but at least partially sincere.  
"Look, he stresses me out, too. He's- he's not himself, now, you have to think of it that way."  
"I don't give a shit whether he's himself or not. I just want to make some progress without being castigated for not making more."  
  
G: "Ugh, I could use a joint."  
"You don't have any?"  
"Smoked my last yesterday, and I won't have any more until I can get the fuck outta here."  
Which could be a while. Will most likely be a while. They're all picking out places to sleep by now.  
  
S: "I've got cigarettes ." They're tobacco, though. Sans hasn't smoked one since last time (and before that, when was the last time he smoked one? weeks? months?) .  
"That shit'll dust you, Sans, it gets all in your lungs."  
"I don't have lungs, so I'm fine."  
"Well. Point taken." Jawbone leans his head against the table. "How long until this test ends? Might powernap through it."  
  
G: "Well, testing times have been getting exponentially longer, so... Maybe another forty-five minutes?"  
"You sure you wanna test fate? We don't even know where doc has gone."  
"For all we know, he's taking a power nap."  
  
S: "It's just 45 minutes." Jawbone doesn't even move, just closes his eyes where he is. "Just wake me up when it ends and I'll start bug-checking this round so we can write next round. I just- need a little nap."  
Sans rubs his eye sockets again. Ugh, ugh. "I'm taking a smoke break, while we're at it. I'll be back." He stuffs the soft pack of cigarettes in his hoodie pocket and shuffles out to sit in front of the lab, staring at the Core and the heat making the air shimmer.  
  
G: A hand springs into life and flicks on a lighter.  
"You said you do not smoke." Gaster himself crouches around the corner of the lab, flicking ash into the deep pit of the earth.  
  
S: "As I recall, I offered you one then, too, and you declined. But here we both are." Sans takes a deep drag. The smoke mostly clouds up his skull and never gets down to his ribs. He's fine with that. "You alright?"  
  
G:: Gaster is quiet and still, only occasionally taking a drag from his joint. When he breathes out, the smoke curls from between his teeth.  
"How tragic is being tried for treason if you're already a god?"  
  
S: "That a brain teaser or a real question?" Is he smoking a joint? Sans had no idea... He looks long and angular and sharp and. Brittle. Brittle bones. "Treason on the brain?"  
  
G: "That depends. Would you report me if it was?"  
  
S: Would he? Sans is quiet for a while. "No." And it's something he's hesitant to say. "Like I could be bothered."  
  
G: It's quiet between them again. Far off in the distance, the Core releases a jet of excess steam that reaches high up to the ceiling of the underground. The heat intensifies.  
"I wonder how a human soul would taste."  
  
S: Sans swallows smoke, chokes a little. He feels it like tar in his ribs. "Even killing them leaves an indelible mark on you. What do you think consuming one would do?" He's read the history books. Seen that monsters become gods. He doesn't know what Gaster might become.  
  
G: "All it takes is one of each, human and monster, to travel through the barrier."  
  
S: "Then what? You'd kill them on the surface to break the barrier?" Sans exhales slow, smoke curling. He feels achy from the heat. "We'd come up and they'd be- you know. They'd be in arms waiting."  
  
G: Gaster's teeth chatter despite the heat. "One human soul makes a monster a god. One for all five of us." The steam slips away, through the natural vents in the crust of the earth. It'll rain somewhere else. "Or all five for one.."  
  
S: "The five of us against the world. Or just you, stronger than any monster before." Sans laughs, softly. "You think we could take em?"  
  
G: "We could die trying." God, that's a little depressing for high-talk, isn't it? "Maybe see the stars before we go down."  
  
S: Sans leans back against the lab wall. It sounds... romantic? Not in the sense of relationships. But romance like a novel, tragic and poetic. Romance like adventure, the classical kind where everyone dies at the end. A real epic poem. "I don't wanna die. I don't want you to die, either. Or- any of the others."  
  
G: When Gaster laughs, it's mostly air and smoke. Hhh hh hh.. "Then I suppose I have to settle with dying down here."  
  
S: "You're not going to die." Sans curls and uncurls his fingers. The heat shimmers and almost makes Gaster seem unreal, an illusion. "We- we're going to see the stars." It's the same thing every monster has promised, in a half whisper, everywhere across the underground. Echoes of it are probably embedded into the earth by now. Generations of monsters. "I believe in you."  
  
G: "Yes, we musn't give up hope, isn't that right?" Gaster feels fuzzier now. Not better, not at all, but he feels as if his sharp edges have been worn down a little. They are making progress. They are working as hard as they can. He realizes those things just fine.  
All the strange, pent-up anger in him has mellowed out into something colder and sadder, but it will at least keep him from tormenting his team.  
  
S: Sans gives in to an impulse and scoots until he can wrap his arms around Gaster. It's stupid and misguided but - maybe- if he's lucky- it's what comfort he can offer.  
"You're saving monsterkind. We are."  
  
G: The action nearly knocks Gaster off-balance, he's only on the balls of his feet, but he manages to stay upright. There's maybe one or two last puffs on his joint. He offers it to Sans in return for the kindness.  
  
S: Sans laughs. He stays leaned against Gaster, forehead against him. Takes a puff and holds it till he can feel it clouding in his skull. Take the edge off. Off his nerves. Over this. Over all those names, all those monsters, all those obituaries he's been combing through. And this is the world they're going to- humans, dusting them without a single care. God.  
  
G: "You should not give up hope, either." The Core belches steam again, the air shimmering brighter. Gaster feels a bead of sweat gather where Sans lays his head.  
  
S: Sans takes another puff, just enough to let the smoke cloud his edges before he blows it out through his eyes and between his teeth.  
"On what?" On getting out? On making something of himself? Of - being cared for, like he...  
Hell, all of it. Any of it. He has to hope, doesn't he? What else is left? He closes his eyes. It's not that Gaster is warm, or feels like much besides bones and magic and the rough material of his coat. But he can't bring himself to move. "I won't."  
  
G: Gaster sighs heavily and pats the hand that isn't holding the joint.  
"Good boy." He can't really bring himself to stand up and get back to the lab. What is there to do? Sit on his hands while making his assistants more and more antsy? There doesn't seem to be much point to that, and Bikeaby is less likely to make mistakes without Gaster breathing down his neck.  
  
S: "Get away from the lab for just one night." Sans is talking crazy, probably. "You should- tonight you should. Do something. Crazy. Something else . Go out- somewhere."  
  
G: "How specific."  
  
S: He laughs. "You could go- to a club? Do they have those in the Capital? Go somewhere you've never been before. Discover something."  
  
G: It sounds absolutely silly for a solid minute. Discover something.. But what else is he to do for now, hm? "I am a scientist."  
  
S: "You are. A damn good one." There's underground left to see, there must be. There's always more to learn.  
  
G:: "You are my protégé."  
  
S: "Yeah, I guess I am, aren't I?" Sans laughs. There's not enough left of this joint to smoke.... He stubs it out on the ground. His own cigarette was long ago abandoned, left to smoke idly on the volcanic rock.  
  
G: "I am not sure it's your place to give me advice." Gaster watches the last bit of smoke curl from the snubbed-out joint. The heat from the Core blows it back towards them, and he's sure he smells like marijuana.  
  
S: "Probably not." Sans laughs kind of desperately. "I know a lot of things aren't my place. I just thought....you might. Feel better."  
  
G: "Come with me."  
  
S: He has so much work to do. The others will notice he's gone. He knows it'll make things worse.   
"Where are we going to go?"  
  
G: Gaster shrugs. The action looks and feels unnatural on him. "To discover something new, as you said."  
  
S: Shit. Why the hell not. "Let's go."  
  
G: "Alright." Gaster finally stands, teeters on the edge of the great fiery pit to the Core. He feels very distinctly as if it's trying to suck him in, but he has things far more important to work on. And abandon, for now. "You are a bit of a homebody, aren't you?"  
  
S: "It's either home or Grillby's." He's just barely got the edge of a friendly haze, just enough to be ponderous and slow and dreamy. Not too much. "Or the lab."  
  
G: "That sounds an awful lot like me." Gaster's head is full of cotton and cold. He wants to get out of Hotland for a while, so he takes hold of Sans' shoulder and returns them to that first snowbank he dumped them into his first time to Snowdin. "Take me somewhere even you have not gone before."

S:The snow is a sudden shock to his bones, an ache in his joints. Somewhere even Sans hasn't gone... He laughs, breath in the air like the smoke from before, and looks around. "This way, then." Away from town, away from the way to waterfall, back towards the cold and the woods and places none of them go.

G: It's private and quiet. Their feet squeak against the snow as they walk, but even that is muffled. Gaster follows dutifully behind Sans and simply watches how their breath crystallizes in the air here. "Does it take some of the thrill out of it, knowing we can snap back home any time we like?"

S: "I guess it does." Sans meanders mostly on instinct, poking through trees and glancing over cliffsides. It's icy in some areas, hard to keep his balance. "Let's not, though. Let's go back on foot, that's just as much part."

G: "Perhaps find something new on our return." There are monsters out in the woods somewhere, Gaster catches a glimpse of them through the tall pines, but they seem content to avoid strangers past that. He supposes their just isn't enough space for everyone to live in the more civilized parts of the underground. "Why did you and your brother come to Snowdin? Or did you come here at all?"

S: "We just sort of....showed up here." Sans doesn't remember ever making the conscious decision to come here. There's a weird little path meandering down a cliff side, so Sans takes it. "I guess it's just - where we were born? Appeared?"

G: The ground is slick here, so Gaster is careful to pick around patches of ice and snow.   
"Before you popped into existence fully-formed. How did the townspeople take it?"

S: "Everyone has been kind here." Sans pulls his hoodie a little closer around him. "When I showed up with Papyrus, with no place to go, the bunny that runs the inn let us stay until I could get my paperwork sorted in the Capital and get a place to stay. And her sister fed us for free for a while. And the library kept us supplied with books until I could get us both in school."

G: "It really must be inherent to monsters. Kindness." The fuzz is starting to dissipate into something more mellow and even, he only had one cigarette. Gaster isn't sure he misses the high. "Most monsters, anyway."

S: "I think every monster has it in us." Gaster does too. Hasn't he been kind? Sans finds odd openings in the cliffside, little furrows. Windows. Something blinks out at him. He waves cheerfully.  
"Magic and love."

G: Gaster hears whoever's inside scurry away, further into their crevices. He can't say he blames them, it's cold out and they are strangers.  
Oh, a human would have come through here recently, wouldn't they? Perhaps that is why other monsters here are so quick to flee.. "It is what makes us, yes. As they say, as the evidence has shown." He wonders, vaguely, what Sans will find within him. If perhaps all that love and compassion has been replaced with. Something else.

S: There's a cave, and Sans peeks inside curiously. No idea what's in here...   
"What was it like for you? Appearing in the capital, so soon after - all that? "

G:: "The Capitol wasn't yet the Capitol. It was simply the closest place to the Barrier, and so monsters decided to settle there. New Home still had wet paint when I found my way to the throne room." With no past, no purpose, and barely a thought past a need to do something for monsterkind.

S: "You just walked into the throne room?" Sans grins and tiptoes into the cave. What's in here? Mushrooms, mostly. "Did it work? Did the king hire you?"

G: Gaster has to duck down to follow Sans, and water drips down onto his back. It gives him a chill until he grows used to it.   
"At the time there was no royal scientist, and they desperately needed one. Needed all the help they could get, really. So I set up a small laboratory close by and fulfilled whatever requests I could for the king and the people."

S: There's a door....what's that??? Sans stills, intrigued. What if he knocks...?  
"It almost seems like you came to exist just because people needed you so much. That's... probably a dumb thing to say."

G:: "Your guess is as- oh.." Gaster stills as well, close behind Sans. He reaches a hand over the other skeleton's shoulder to feel along the surface of the door. It's sturdy..

S: "Should we knock?" He didn't even know there could be doors out in the woods, hidden in some cave...

G:: Gaster gives the door a push, first, just to test it. It doesn't budge.   
"It is locked up tight. Maybe no one is home."

S: "Maybe." Now Sans is impossibly curious. "What could it be?" A home, probably... maybe just a reclusive monster.

G:: "Who can say. Perhaps the Queen." It's a fairly common joke at the Capitol, though it's always said a little under the breath.

_Oh, I found this little cafe I didn't even know existed.  
_ _Oh, yeah? Was the Queen working there_?

S: Sans snorts. It's quiet and cool in the cave, despite the heavy door.  
"I guess you'd have known better than me." Not that the crown prince's death and the queen leaving were that far back- there are still monsters alive that remember it- but definitely before Sans' time. He hesitates. He could turn to leave, he guesses....

G: Gaster winds up blocking the way, but he didn't intend for them to leave just yet, anyway.   
"You know, this could really end badly for us." But it doesn't stop him from grabbing hold of Sans' arm and jumping to the other side of the door.

S: Sans prepares himself for the worst. A huge, angry monster shouting at them for invading their privacy, no doubt. A bottomless pit they'll fall into. A bed of spikes from some long-abandoned puzzle.  
At least Gaster has ahold of him.  
He cracks one eye open and looks around cautiously.  
A small, white dog wags its tail at them.  
"Uh....."

G: "Oh!" Gaster is perhaps more startled than if they really had encountered the Queen. He looks around the small room quickly just to get a bead on things. Really?  
"Hello. Is this your home?" Wait, can dog-monsters even speak? "Did someone trap you here?"

S: The dog seems to consider this for a moment before it goes sniffing under Gaster's coat to try and gnaw at his legbones.  
... Is that... a dog-monster, or like... a regular dog? Like, a human-world dog?  
Sans shuffles around the room peeking at things. The blanket the dog is sleeping on is. Covered in dog hair. And kind of holey....

G: "Oh, no, none of that. Those are not for you." Gaster has to sidestep to get away from the dog and winds up nearly tripping over... another dog? No, just some residues.

S: The residue explodes into a puff of dog hair, and it coats. Pretty much everything. Sans coughs and he's sure it comes out of his eyes.  
The dog seems satisfied with this and contents itself with chewing on a computer chair. Why does a dog need a computer?  
Sans snickers and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I dunno, G, he's kinda cute. We need a lab dog?"

G: Gaster scoffs and spits out dog hair. His coat is covered in it, why did it have to be a white dog?   
"Absolutely not. We already have Bikeaby."

S: "Bikeaby's a cat." Sans realizes the dog is making an attempt to gnaw at his tibia. "Wow, stop that."

G: "The same principal applies." God, this dog is annoying..

S: "We probably ought to....get out of here, then." Sans keeps sidestepping the dog any it doesn't seem to be working that well...

G: "If you want the dog so much, why not take him home?"

S: Huh... "You know, I bet Papyrus would love him." All kids want a puppy, right? Sans actually dips down to pet the dog. That definitely seems to make him a lot happier than dodging him, and he stops trying to get at Sans' legs.

G: Hm. Well, that makes sense. "It would be a big responsibility. Not that I have ever owned a pet, myself.."

S: "Never liked animals, doc?" Sans actually picks up the little dog. Ooof, he's heavy. How does such a little dog weigh so much? What's in his fur?   
"He'll be a lot of responsibility, but it looks like he's....done fine? On his own?" Somehow. While locked in this room.

G: "Oddly enough.." So he must be fairly independent for a dog. Gaster checks the computer in the corner, but it seems to be heavily encrypted. Strange.. "Well. I suppose we should soldier on."

S: "Guess so." Sans tucks the dog under one arm and links the other with Gaster's. The dog seems fine with this, little paws rapidly moving like he's swimming in mid air. Okay. "There's plenty more left to see."

G: Gaster shifts them back outside the door and winds up bonking his skull on the ceiling. It's much lower in here than in the dog's room.. Or. The room the dog was in. Whichever. Half-stooping back out of the cave makes his back ache, and he has to pop a gew vertebrae once they're in the open air again. This is... the most physicaly active he's been in a while, actually.   
"Onwards to adventure." Though they have to backtrack a little in order to get back to the woods. The climb up the slope is more taxing than the climb down.

S: The dog hops out of Sans' arms and bounds around in the snow around them as they walk. He seems content enough to stick nearby, so Sans lets him bop around without much concern. He seems like a pretty easygoing dog. "You lead the way this time."  


G: Gaster tries very much to seem as if he isn't winded when they get back to the top of the hill. He is a scientist... Even with his fighting, he just isn't made for physicality. The dog doesn't seem affected, of course. They came from the east... so Gaster turns them west while he catches his breath.

S: Sans trudges after him in the snow. He, at least, has his practice with Papyrus keeping him in.... more or less shape. "Have you ever been this far this way?" The trees get denser here, the woods thicker.

G: "I do not wander far outside the Capitol, unless it's been to track down a human. The first soul I collected for the king was out this way, but not nearly this far west." The snow is getting thicker, as well, though there is more ceiling cover. No one must have come through here in a very long time. "We came from here, after we were brave enough to venture out into the underground."

S: "We came from here?" He supposes it makes sense. There's still some things from the surface that make it down here. The snow, for example, in Snowdin. Comes from a ravine so high above and sheer that no one can see the top. It's enough light for trees to grow, and snow sticks to the ground where it falls. Sans has heard they're under a mountain. "I've heard the first settlement we came from is sealed off from the rest of the underground."

G: Gaster nods sagely. He is one of the oldest living monsters left, he has heard of Home from the monsters who once called it theirs. "They are only ruins now, long abandoned. Or supposedly abandoned. Who knows how many Molds have moved in."

S: "Molds, maybe ghosts. Ghosts can go anywhere." Except outside the barrier. Sans gets lost in twigs breaking under his slippers for a while, the quiet stillness of the woods here. The snow feels so undisturbed. The trees seem tall and endless.

G: "I cannot imagine the Blook family coming out this far." Gaster couldn't imagine himself coming out this far, either. He wonders how the team at the lab is doing.

S: "I've never really met any of them." Sans' voice echoes around here. The space feels claustrophobic and too large all at once. His shoulder keeps bumping Gaster as he avoids trees.  
"I've never- well. You know. I go the same few places." It's interesting. Kind of scary. He didn't realize the underground could feel scary, in all honesty.

G: Is it getting darker? Gaster could check the time, but he's learned recently that time is essentially meaningless. "The sun must be setting, up there." Or it's simply gone past its crux. The temperature will start dropping rapidly, soon, but skeletons don't have skin anyway.

S: "I always almost resented it for just barely giving us day and night, you know? At least here in snowdin. It may always be dark in Waterfall, but at least they don't have to long for something just out of reach."

G:: "Is that not existence for a monster?" Any monster, all monsters. Well, maybe not all monsters, some of them are barely sentient.

S: "I guess it is." It's depressing when he thinks of it like that. Achy. "That's why we push on, I guess." He pauses and looks around. "Kinda lost."

G: Gaster hums in agreement. "Was that not the point?"

S: "Sure was." And yet. "What if we never made it back? What if we haunted the woods forever?"

G:: "Then we certainly would never get out of here."

S: "Let's not do that, then." Not that they can't just.... zip home, whenever they feel like it. Somehow it feels like cheating. "Did you hear a sound?"

G: "How could I?" Gaster stops dead in his tracks just the same, his slight frame and barely-there weight just enough to sink him into the snow. After a few seconds, it packs tight beneath his feet and he can sink no longer. "The silence is so loud here."

S: Sans swallows and nods. He stays still and alert a moment longer, prickling up the back of his spine, a bead of sweat on the back of his skull despite the chill.  
The dog trots out from behind a tree dragging an oversized branch, and Sans breathes out. He'd almost forgotten.  
"It's like no one has been here since the first monsters left the ruins."

G:: It wouldn't surprise Gaster if that were true. "Except for us."

S: "Wonder if anything got left behind. In the exodus." Sans can imagine this place frozen in time. Frozen, in general.

G: "Thinking of looting your ancestors, boy?" He knows that isn't what Sans meant, most likely, but it sits uneasy and hot with him, anyway.

S: Sans shudders at the chill in Gaster's voice. He scrunches down into his jacket, hands shoved in his pockets.   
"No. More like- thinking like an archaeologist." Archaeologists still steal artifacts, don't they? "Or a historian." Which is absurd, he's first and foremost a scientist.

G: It's quiet. Silent, eerily so. Whatever sun there was in this place has set, but it still glows like the light is as trapped as they are.  
"There is more dust beneath our feet than anywhere else in this prison." Gaster doesn't know how he knows that, but he does. He supposes it simply makes sense.

S: Sans' breath curls from his teeth, shaky and ephemeral. No wonder it feels so haunted. "I don't know if we should be here." Even the dog seems quiet, sniffing around trees, little pawprints barely sinking into the snow.

G: "No, we shouldn't." But he presses onwards and waves a hand behind him to draw Sans along. "Come. I cannot imagine it is much further."

S: Sans shudders but follows anyways. He realizes by now he'd probably follow Gaster right into the heat of the Core, right into his demise, if the doctor asked nicely. Their tracks behind them are solid enough, at least, proof of their existence.

G: The silence eventually develops an echo, and the trees thin out just a bit. The cold even seems to creep away, though not much. It isn't too much longer that Gaster can see it through the pines, the solid expanse of stone wall that stretches until it meets with the natural cave. The snow is utterly undisturbed before the lone door.   
"Welcome Home."

S: The door is taller than Gaster, taller than any monster Sans has encountered. Huge. The wall carved into the stone reaches up to the cavern's natural roof.  
"This is it? Where all of - all of us used to live?"

G:: "Every monster you have ever known can trace their origins here, to whatever lies beyond this one door." Gaster goes quiet for a while, perhaps reverent. "Save for you, your brother, and I."

S: "Except for us." It's strangely.... achy? Not sharing in common monster history. Not sharing in common monster ancestry, in metaphorical blood. Not dust of their dust. "Wonder what's back there. A settlement? Nothing? D'you think the ruins are still intact? Still livable?"

G: "I would not expect there to be much more than ghosts." Metaphorical ghosts. The ghost family seems to spread from Waterfall.

S: "Guess not." Sans stands and stares at the door for a while. His skull feels hollow and achy. He wants to...he does, on impulse, reach and take Gaster's hand. The moment feels too much. "Bet you could practice some killer knock knock jokes back here."

G: It is probably some sort of sacrilegious to laugh, but Gaster does anyway. "If you are in the mind for that sort if thing." He squeezes Sans' hand just for comfort's sake.

S: Sans feels himself committing this moment to memory. The door, the light crunch of the dog's paws through icy snow a little ways away. The clack of bone on bone from Gaster's hand in his. Something to remember.  
"Wanna turn back?"

G: "I suppose we should, shouldn't we?" Leave the dead to the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entire walk section ended up being too long for one chapter. Next chapter has one of my favorite moments in it, weird as it is.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster and Sans continue their walk, and then it's back to the lab.

S: Sans keeps his hand in Gaster's. The trudge through the snow and trees seems less daunting that way. The dog trots ahead, seems as eager as them to get out of this haunted (haunting?) place. "Where to next?"

G: It's a little clumsy. Gaster's legs are much longer than Sans', and he has to settle for half-strides in order to keep pace. He wonders how long it will take for the snow to erase the fact they were ever here.  
"We have travelled as far east as we can. Everything else lies back where we came from."

S: "Is there anywhere else you've never been?" With as much time as Gaster has had.... Well. It's places like this, that monsterkind has barely touched, that are all that's left to discover. There is so little of the underground left unexplored. Less still to discover. One day they'll run out.

G: "I'd never been to your home until you took me." Gaster has, admittedly, not been incredibly exploratory. Outside of looking for humans, at least, but even those are brought to him as reports and coordinates. It isn't like they have anywhere to hide down here.  
"Do you suppose the lab is a wreck?"

S: _Come back to my home, if you don't know it. Explore every inch_. Sans crushes the urge down, hand still linked with Gaster's.  
 "The lab's probably doing just fine. Everyone was powernapping in shifts while checking the machines. I doubt they've even noticed we're gone." Maybe Sans. They probably think he went home to go to sleep, in all honesty.  
  
G: "Then I suppose there is no point in going back, hm?"  
Gaster take them instead to Waterfall. The change in air pressure and temperature and very sudden, and he bones actually creak as his cartilage compresses. Oh, ouch, that may not have been very smart. He takes his hand from Sans' to stretch, pops lighting up all down his spine.

S: Sans mourns the loss, but he can't really ask to hold hands again without belying his intent. So he stretches, too, instead, dissipating the fog building up in his spine, the ache through his ribs. The dog is still back in Snowdin.... but, he'll be fine. He seemed fine before Sans let him out, too.  
"I never particularly thought about it, but Waterfall is mostly runoff from Snowdin, right?"

G: "Yes. The warm, wet space between Snowdin and Hotland. It is our agricultural cradle and the space that feeds the kingdom." Mostly. Gaster still feels stiff, but it isn't something he can solve on his own. He conjures up a few hands to help with a particularly stubborn disc and winds up feeling worse and more cramped for it. Oof..  
"Everything else we get through fishing."

S: "I can help with that, if you want." It's a very quiet suggestion. Sans shuffles. Water is seeping up through the muddy grass into his slippers... he didn't really prepare for Waterfall. So be it. He curls and uncurls his fingers, talks to distract himself.  
"I know we harvest a lot from here. Salvage, too. I guess. Or junk." Movies, TV. Human discards. Everyone's gone dump diving in Waterfall at least once.

G: "Yes, that is another point. There is an underground river that carries not only things from the surface, but oxygen as well. The soil here is fertile." Gaster cannot possibly imagine how Sans can help in a way his helping hands could not. So he waves him off without much concern.

S: Well, that's probably better for them both.  
"I was never much of a biologist, but a lot of my peers were interested in maximizing crops and stuff down here. Food production, the like." Sans delved right into the abstract stuff. He supposes there's just as much use in trying to make it as comfortable to live down here as it is to try and get out, but... "It just feels like it's hopeless, though."

G: Gaster shrugs. He still aches, right around his implant, but there's no helping it at this point.  
"Someone has to keep the population alive while we work to free us. The ever-growing population, I might add." Well, they aren't doing anything good just standing around. Southeast seems like a decent bet.

S: "Couple engineers were talking about housing too. The population isn't getting any smaller..." Sans remembers Grillby talking about his daughter. "You ever considered being a parent, Doc?" Their path moves from water to more solid ground, faint bioluminescence lighting the way.

G: He actually snorts, the idea is so damned outrageous.  
"Good god, no. That is.. That is just ridiculous."

S: Sans laughs. That's about the answer he expected. "Yeah. I don't exactly see you as a parent." He toes at a patch of luminescent grass. "I guess I'm sort of raising my brother. Someone I know has a kid. He'd never talked about it before, but I can tell he's a good parent. But it's like- there's so much potential to mess up."

G: "Children on the mind, Sans?" Gaster has never much had the patience for children. They ask too many questions and get bored halfway through his explanations.

S: "I keep thinking about the population getting bigger and bigger. And how monsters keep having families, and - I dunno, to deny them that right seems harsh. Plus we need new generations to....well, not die out. But..."

G: Gaster sighs in irritation.  
"This is something I have brought up to the king a hundred times, but he does not want to listen to his own royal scientist."

S: "What, population control?" It seems bleak and kind of sad. Not that Sans wants a kid (well, he has Papyrus to look out for, isn't that enough?) But... well. A lot of monsters he knows love their kids a lot. Especially in Snowdin, which is....full of rabbits.

G: "He says I need to stick to my area of expertise, as though I haven't written the book on everything ranging from particle physics to proper intimidation tactics when encountering humans." It's insulting, frankly, and Gaster is getting worked up just thinking about it.

S: "Do you even have an area of expertise? Or are you just brilliant at everything?" Maybe Sans can distract him. He doesn't much like talking about population control.

G: "I am, pretty much, brilliant at everything." No use denying it. Waterfall grows darker, the light of the mushrooms not even enough to keep the path lit.

S: Sans sticks close by his side so he doesn't get lost in the dark. It's excuse enough to take his hand again.  
"You've never had trouble with anything? Never....struggled? Academically?" Sans has definitely had trouble in the past.

G: Gaster allows Sans to take his hand, just as he took Kenny into his lap after the lab accident.  
"I came by much of it naturally. Not all of it."

S: He knows it's a small kindness he's being afforded, and he's grateful for it.  
"I would do anything to be so.... gifted, I guess."

G: "You do not have to be gifted. Hard work is just as powerful."

S: Sans laughs. "If only I did that."

G: "You can." Gaster squeezes his hand. He reaches out with the other and taps a lantern, and their path lights up with an ethereal glow. "You have the potential."

S: "You think?" Sans squeezes back. The pale light makes everything haunted and hazy. "I want to be better. I feel so driven when-...  when."

G: "When?"

S: "When you push me. I wanna do as well as you think I will."

G: "Then I will keep pushing." Gaster has put quite the load on Sans. He's assisting with the chronometer and everything related, he has a thesis now, he's training with the blaster. All at Gaster's insistence.

S: Sans isn't sure how much pushing he can take. He's already cracking under pressure. He squeezes Gaster's hand again.  
"How do you keep from breaking?"

G: "I simply.. do not." Gaster does not know how else to describe it. He has too much to do to break. He has been through far too much.

S: Sans doesn't know if he can do that. "What if I do?"

G: Gaster can just barely see the white of Sans' skull in the dark, a face turned away. "You won't."

S: "I don't know that." He's never worked this hard before. For anything.

G: Gaster crouches down by Sans, holding his hand in both of his own. "I know."

S: Sans doesn't know what to do with the way the eerie light catches the rim of Gaster's skull, the pinpricks of light of his pupils in the dark. "Promise?"

G: "Promises are unsteady. I will collect proof, instead."

S: Sans smiles wider at him. He leans forward until he can rest his forehead against Gaster's. He's taken every inch he's been given today and run a mile, he'll get too used to this.  
"Prove it to me."

G: "Proof relies on tests. And so far, you have passed every one I have given you." Shared breath is strange and a little uncomfortable, but it is hardly kind to pull away in a moment of need. Gaster has to make active pushes towards that, now. Kindness.

S: "There'll be more tests." He knows that. And he may not pass all of them so easily. And yet. And yet. "Thank you."

G: Gaster nods and finally pulls away. It's grown almost black around them, no movement to set off the luminescent mushrooms and the way markers left behind by some kind souls. Gaster has to search to find one in the dark.  
"We will need to practice again, some time soon. You know this?"

S: "Yeah, I know." It's probably high time. Sans has been doing what he can, but even in private he can't seem to manage to trigger the blaster. The sudden rush of the lantern coming on hurts his eye sockets a little.

G: "hOI!!!"  
" _Good lord.._ "  
What the hell is that, and why was it just waiting for them?

S: ....how..... how long has that monster been there? Are they....okay?  
"H-hi. Nice to...meet you?"

G:: "i'm tEMMIE!" How does it.. she? do that?  
"Ah.. Hello. I am doctor Din Gaster, and this is my assistant, Sans." He gestures to each of them in part. "And you are.. t. Temmie." Sweet merciful god, why is her face doing that?  
**"fdhskkglslkajshfjskhfkss"**  
" _Oh god, help us._ "

S: "You OK there, Temmie?" She's probably not okay. "We, uh. We didn't mean to.... startle? You?"

G: Gaster holds up both of his hands, but the lantern by them starts to fade. Nono, don't leave them in the dark with this thing.. "We, ah. We do not want any trouble?"  
"u come for tEM villege?"  
"Pardon? Village?"  
"MANY tems in villege!"  
"Oh, dear. Did you hear that, Sans? _Many_ tems.."

S: "Many tems." Sans snorts a laugh and has to clap a hand over his mouth.  
"A discovery, Doc. Isn't that the goal? Let's meet many tems."

G: " Oh.. I suppose. That is what a good scientist would do." Gaster very much regrets this day.  
The Temmie bounces around. Her face stays put. "yaYA! New tem tourisem push! Lern histories of TEM!"

S: "Learn the histories of tem." Sans has gone right past horror into amusement.  
"Alright, Tem, sounds great. The best. Let's do it. Take us to Tem Village. _Tem_ porarily."

G: "U follow tem!"

Gaster is not in the least bit excited for where this is going, but if he doesn't move he gets the impression Sans will push him along. So he reluctantly follows behind, his hands wringing together so hard his knuckles occasionally crack.

S: It's.... off the beaten path. Sans doesn't think....many people come this way.... If any. He lets Temmie lead him to a secluded little area tucked away behind a cliffside and.  
Lo and behold.

More temmies.

G: " Oh, god. "  
"hOIhOiOIHoI!!!" It's a cacophony of horror for a solid eight seconds. Gaster feels a bead of sweat drip down his spine. Some of them are vibrating faster than others.  
"welcom to... da TEM VILLAGE!!!"  
"This is hell."

S: "Hi Temmie, I'm Sans." Does he need to introduce himself to each of them individually? Lord. This is great. This is _hilarious._ "Hi, Temmie, I'm Sans...."

G:: "hOI, snas! i'm tEMMIE!"  
"hOI, snas!"  
"temm!!"  
"snass!" They all just keep saying it wrong. Gaster can feel his panic scrabbling around in his skull.

"U follow tourisem tem!"  
That is absolutely the last thing he wants to do, but the other Temmies are clustering around his legs in... excitement, and he soon doesn't have a choice.

S: "Yup. That's me, Snas." Sans snickers. Gaster seems to be ... being .... herded ? along by a cluster of Temmies, so Sans figures he better go ahead and accompany him. He looks miserable. It's.... honestly, pretty funny.  
"Tourism, huh? Lots of tourists here in... tem village?"

G:: "skeltons R first tourists to Tem village!"  
Gaster is directed towards a mural along one wall. "What an. Honour."  
"OMG! tem's favoRITE piece of Temmie histories! Great Hero Tem defeats evul!"

The cluster of temmies at Gaster's feet ooo and aaah and OMG in response, as if they are also on the tour.

S: There's a Temmie in Sans' hoodie. He didn't pick her up, or put her there, she's just. There. Kicking her feets.  
Well, okay.  
"Pretty impressive." Actually, it kind of is. Who painted this mural? The dragon looks pretty good. Great Hero Tem looks like. Well, like a temmie.

 G: "yaYAya! GREATEST hero in kingdom!"  
They all bounce along at different speeds, and Gaster is half-pushed-half-tripped along. He somehow doubts that a Temmie was the greatest hero in the kingdom.  
"Next is statue of... TEM!!"  
Yep, that sure is what it is. It's even labelled.

S: It's also pretty big. Impressively big? How did Tems build this? The Temmie in Sans' hoodie sort of- wiggles her way to stand on top of his skull. It is a feat of balance.  
"Good artistic vision, very inspired." He's having way more fun than he should.

G:: Gaster turns to comment to Sans, but is instead confronted with the Temmie standing atop his head.  
"I think I want to go home.."  
"LAST STOP! tEM SHOP!"

All the temmies vibrate a little more excitedly.

S: "Oh good, maybe we can buy a souvenir." Temmie vibrating on his head is making his teeth rattle. Sans allows the horde to push them into the shop.  
If... you can call it that. Is that cardboard? Most of it is cardboard. Very efficient interior decorating.

G:: It seems the only thing the Tem Shop actually sells are... tem flakes. Gaster is fairly certain they are bonito flakes with new labels. The shop smells vagely fishy..  
"Ah, Sans. I believe I left my wallet at the lab, so. I think I will pass."

S: "You know what, I'll take one.... tem flakes, please."  
"tEM FLAKE!!1"  
He hands over a coin and accepts the... merchandise?  
A tem tugs on his shorts with one paw. "Snass?"  
"Yes?"  
"tem buy teM flake!??"  
"Uh."

She holds up two coins.

Shit, who is he to deny her?  
"Sure thing, special deal." He hands the flakes over and accepts.  
  
G: God, they don't even understand basic economical rules.  
"Thank you, ah. Temmies."  
"hOI!!!"  
"Yes. Hello. I think we need to leave."  
"oooOOOOoooh.. bOI!! how was.. Tem tour!?"

Gaster keeps his teeth closed, perhaps a little afraid of how honest he is for once. He turns to Sans.

S: "I'd rather the tour.... tem out of tem." Ha! Sans is hilarious.

G:: The Temmies turn to Sans, and everything is silent for a solid twenty seconds. Everything. Gaster isn't breathing.  
**"DON'T"**  
"We're leaving. " Gaster's voice actually cracks.

S: "Woops look at that time to go." Sans grabs Gaster's hand and takes a shortcut out without actually thinking about where they're going.

G: Gaster doesn't know where they are for a while, and he's honestly alright with that. They're away from that place... He's squeezing Sans' hand tightly, happy to be afforded the comfort. It's quiet and dark. Maybe? He eventually recognizes the familiar drip of his. Well, he supposes it's a panic room at the moment. Gaster crafts a couple of hands and sends them out to light up his lanterns.  
"I owe you something for that."

S: Sans' knuckles ache from being squeezed tight, but he doesn't move to pull away. He's not even sure how he remembered to come here? It's a good spot though. Safe from- well. About everything. There are still furrows in the rock from the first time with the blasters.  
_I owe you something. How about affection._ That seems awful and Sans crushes it down.  
"I didn't mean to leave you in an uncomfortable situation too long. I thought they were kinda cute."

G: "I, ah. I cannot say what exactly I found so unnerving. About them." The vibrating faces? The smiles? The language? The fact that he's been here for centuries and never once encountered anything like the Temmies? Euuugh..

S: "It's alright." Sans stays how they are, hand squeezed tight in Gaster's.  
"Uh, I won't- we don't have to. Worry bout that any more, it's cool."

G: "Hmm.." Gaster eventually figures out he's still holding tight to Sans' hand and lets go. He finds a rise of stone and sits, even though it's a little damp. Everything is a little damp in Waterfall, that's just how it is. "Thank you."

S: "Yeah, it's. No problem." Sans plops, cross-legged, on the ground. It's damp... whatever.  
"I still don't really feel like going back."

G: Gaster nods. He feels strung out after the entirety of the day. Most especially after that encounter. "Rest is. Important. I should remember that."

S: "It's really important." Sans leans back on the heelbones of his hands. His eyes still feel tired.  
"You need to function at your best, right?"

G: "Perhaps I should take some advice from you, hm?"

S: Sans laughs.  
"Only some. Rest is.... rest is a good one to take from me." Gaster apparently also smokes weed, that one was a surprise.

G: Gaster hums and lets his eyes fall closed. He can hear the drip drip of the cavern, his own breathing, Sans'. How's the lab doing? Based on the exponential growth of time needed to run scans on the human souls... They should be somewhere in the last third of their eighth lap. Who knows how many more it will take.  
"I needed this."

S: Sans smiles, easier, at him. "Then I'm. I'm glad I could give this to you."

G: "Thank you. Thank you." He hangs his head, it feels very heavy. Like it's full of sleep and he needs to let it out. How dos one release sleep?  
"Sometimes I miss living in the city, separate from where I work. Even with the noise and bustle."

S: "I don't know if I could ever live in the city." Sans leans his head against cool damp rock. "Snowdin's so quiet. Still and peaceful. It sounds and smells like winter, that....heaviness." He misses it when he sleeps at the lab.

G: "A good place for you and your brother."

S: "You could sleep on my couch tonight. If you wanted." Sans would be a gentleman and offer to take the couch and give Gaster the bed, but....his bed is awful .

G:: Gaster laughs through his nasal passage and opens an eye to stare Sans down.  
"Now what would the others have to say about that?"

S: Sans flushes, pulls at his hoodie strings.  
"Probably something awful that's gonna make me blush. For the record, it's - a real offer, not some. Attempt at seduction."

G: "That would count as a rather poor attempt, I have to say. Fairly lacklustre." Definitely in the bottom five of attempted seductions in Gaster's book. "I appreciate the offer, but I cannot run from the lab. Not much longer."

S: And if Sans is going to try, he'd want to do it right, right? (Not that he's going to try.) "You got to run away for a while. At least."

G: Gaster kind of grunts and frowns, his pupil shifting away from Sans. "Yes, to discover what little bits and bobs of the underground we have not infiltrated." But he did have... fun. In a way. He can't really be angry about that.

S: "I." Sans yawns. "I'm.... glad you brought me. Thank you."

G: "It was a spur-of-the-moment decision made while inebriated. I suppose I am glad you enjoyed it."

S: "Hey, gotta be wild while you're young, right?" He is entirely kidding. But Gaster didn't really get to _be_ young, did he?

G: Gaster chuckles, though he doesn't really find it that funny. Not that he thinks it particularly unfunny.  
"Speak for yourself. I've spent most of my life as an old codger."

S: "So you gotta make up for lost time." Sans is tired and nonsensical. "You've got so much partying to do."

G: "Sounds like an invitation." Gaster can't imagine himself partying. Ever.

S: "Sure, why not. Gotta get crazy like me." Like Sans has ever gotten crazy in his life? Every time he gets intoxicated he just ends up sad and cuddly.  
"Or lazy like me."

G: "I think I will pass on both of those."

S: Sans laughs. He lets his eyes close, head still leaned against the rock.  
"Maybe just little doses then. Like sleeping eight hours."

G: Gaster supposes he should actually take that one, but he knows very well that he won't. Too much work, too much buzzing in his head when he isn't working. Strange that it's absent now.  
Hell. Maybe he's just depressed. "Are you going to sleep, there on the damp floor?"

S: "I might if I don't move." Sans is exhausted. He was exhausted before he went on an adventure. He sort of caught his second wind with the exhilaration of discovery, of wandering, but now he just feels...half dead.  
"Oughta go home, but that means getting myself there."

G:: "I suppose it is up to me to do it for you, then?" Gaster doesn't even know what time it is. For all he knows, it's past work hours, past midnight. Time is meaningless, anyway.

S: Sans laughs. His eyes are still closed.  
"Is it too much to ask?" The last time he tried to take a shortcut while he was this exhausted, he apparently frightened everyone. And got pretty lightheaded.

G: Gaster grumbles, but he supposes he owes Sans for this entire. Adventure. When he stands, the line of joints from one ankle to his hip pops. That feels a bit better, but his spine is still stiff. "I am not tucking you in."

S: "That's a bit much even for me." Sans slowly pulls himself up with a lot of help from the wall. His slippers make wet little 'plap' sounds as he shuffles over to Gaster and links their hands.  
"I'll tuck myself in just fine."

G: "It sounds like you make a habit of that." Gaster collects himself for a moment and tries very hard to remember the inside of Sans' house. Was the kitchen on the right or...? The living room is a safer bet, so he takes them there instead.

S: The house is dark, but the lamp is on in Papyrus's room. He's probably close to sleep, though... Sans removes his hand from Gaster's to stretch and yawn.  
"I tuck myself in all the time, isn't that what adults do?"

G: "All the time?" Gaster tsks and shakes his head. "You had better be careful, Sans. You could go blind." Said with a completely straight face, of course.

S: That. Oh my god, that was a dirty joke. Sans snorts unattractively and claps a hand over his teeth. There's a damp spot on the carpet from his slippers....  
"I dunno, self-sufficience is good for the brain, right?" This is dumb, he's so embarassed.

G: Gaster hums in consideration. "Well, that starts to say an awful lot about me, doesn't it?"

S: _Oh my god_. "Tuck yourself in all the time, Doc?" ....Oh my god.

G: It finally cracks through, and Gaster smiles again.  
"Good night, Sans." He leaves out the front door but not before throwing a wink over his shoulder.

S: "I-uh- g. Goodnight, Dr. Gaster." Sans actually buries his face in both hands as soon as Gaster's out the door. No fair. No fair, no fair.

G: There's a note left for Gaster at the lab along with a book of notes and measurements. The team did a good job in his absence, and he feels. Well, not much. But he recognizes the touches of guilt as he looks over their progress. He sets the sensors and programs to run before tucking off to bed, himself.

* * *

 

S: When Sans manages to crawl out of bed in the morning it is far later than he really anticipated, and Papyrus has already headed off to school. He meanders to the lab, taking the riverperson's boat mostly so he can snooze on the way, and shambles into the lab still yawning, making a beeline for the coffeepot.

G:: "Well, look what the cat dragged in." Bikeaby is the only one up in the lounge. He still has a migraine from all of yesterday's coding. "Where'd you disappear to?"

S: "Bed." Sans snorts. He's tempted to get one of Jawbone's huge soup bowls of a mug.... "Home, then bed." He's... not really lying.

G: Bikeaby snorts. "Yeah. Sounds like it was a damn good idea." Staying in bed also sounds like it would have been a damn good idea, but he has no idea the kind of repercussions that would have brought about. "Least the doc's in a better mood today."

S: "God, yeah." Sans admittedly didn't sleep as much as he claims to have, but god is he glad he slept. "Really? He stopped skull-king around?" Little skeleton humor to start the day.

G: "Don't."

S: "Oh come on." But Sans doesn't. Mostly because he's too tired to think of more. "Whatever, we still running tests?"

G:: "Trying to. Whenever I get back down to the lab." Bikeaby shakes his head and sips on a cup of coffee. It really isn't going to help his migraine. "We're always runnin' tests, man."

S: "That's like 90% of science. The other 10% is making charts of the shit you just ran test on."

G:: Bikeaby huffs. "Yeah. Guess I'm in the wrong profession, huh?"

S: "I dunno, you're a pretty good scientist." That's true. And he's pretty damn good as a programmer.

G:: "Mmhm, sure." His ears are laid down flat because any noise louder than a murmur makes his headache spike into something obscene.  
"God, man, this is a rough fuckin' job."

S: Sans idly reaches out to scratch at a spot of fur on Bikeaby. "It is, yeah."

G: Bikeaby settles and purrs gently. "Thanks, Sans." Those fingerbones are pretty great at pets.  
"When you gonna come back to my place and get high with me again?"

S: "Iunno. Invite me over." When Sans isn't swamped with work or following Gaster around out of thirst, he guesses.  
"How bout tonight? After we get done with this next shitstorm?"

G: "Shit, dude, I don't have anything. I haven't been able to see my sister yet."

S: "Aw, damn." Sans keeps idly scratching. "Well, how about next time you do, then."

G: Bikeaby nods. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good." He eventually finishes up his coffee and decides he... has to get back to work.

S: Sans goes with him, settling back into the swing of the lab. "Morning, K. Morning, JB."  
"Mmh." Jawbone is mostly asleep.

G: "Hey, uh. Doc." Bikeaby is stooped a little. "Sorry for not staying later, I know you want this as soon as possible."  
Gaster does look better than he did yesterday. "Not at all. I was being unreasonable."  
"Oh.." Bikeaby's ears lift a little, and he doesn't seem as nervous. "Ah. Well, no problem. I'll just. Get to it."

S: It's amazing the difference rest and fun makes on him, isn't it? Sans wishes it were easier to actually convince him to do it. He launches into thesis work, keeping an eye on the overall mood of the lab.

G: Bikeaby settles into refining code, looking much easier about it than he did yesterday. It's still a cautious easiness, but the doctor definitely isn't breathing down his neck. Gaster is more inclined to give them all space, and he quietly retreats to his private office to go over charts and figures.  
This time, the quiet is soothing rather than oppressive. A bandage over a scrape.  
"So where did you disappear to yesterday?" Kenny is tuning up some bobble, something from their machine.  
"Smart guy went home and slept. Lucky."

S: "I had full intention just to be gone an hour, two tops. Figured I'd shower and get a bite." Sans 'pffts' loudly. "So much for that."  
"It's one of the worst lies we tell ourselves. 'I'll be right back '. As soon as you think it, it's over." Jawbone has woken up enough to make complete sentences.

G:: "Heeey, bud. You ready to get started on aaaaaall of this?" The block of coding has grown significantly since its first iteration. But its parameters are getting tighter and tighter, and he can tell they're coming close to something.

S: Jawbone yawns, a huge yawn. "You got it. Not groggy or anything." A lie. "Let's get to it."

G: "Bikeaby, before that." Gaster comes back with two handfuls of charts and another under one arm. Bikeaby half-flinches when the doctor comes close, but he shakes it off fast.  
"Could you focus a bit tighter here, here, and here?" He's pointing everything out. Quietly and gently.  
"You thinking those are our sweet spots?"

The two of them speak lowly, and Bikeaby seems to be getting his confidence back.

S: The team's morale really does move with Gaster's, and even Jawbone- perpetually tired as he is- seems to be perking up a bit with it. He shuffles over to listen in with Bikeaby, glancing through the charts Gaster is working from.  
"Seems solid. Man, we're actually getting close, aren't we?"  
Sans looks up from plugging in his own data. It's all manual entry right now, chronicling all these dead monsters. "It actually feels like it, yeah." Hope is a nice thing in the lab.

G:: "I will not make promises, but these areas in particular seem intriguing." Gaster won't give them anything definitive so soon or else they'll all be miserable if things don't work out right.  
"Alright, I'll plug this in, doc. Ain't no thing."  
"I do not know precisely what that means, but I feel compelled to thank you for it."  
Kenny actually laughs, though it's quiet and behind one hand.

S: "Ain't no thing." Jawbone seems.... amused, through the groggy. "Man, Doc, whatever you're into, keep it up and/or share."  
Sans.... isn't sure there's enough of him to take everyone on adventures, but whatever. Sharing is caring.

G:: "Didn't the doctor tell you? He's high." Gaster looks partially confused, but he doesn't interrupt Kenny. "On life. "  
Bikeaby makes motions like he's shredding on a guitar to compliment the terrible joke.

S: "Bikeaby, you don't even..." Fuck it. Air guitar it is. Sans gives in and plays accompanying air drums to the tune of badum-tish.  
"Whoever's growing life needs to hook me up." Jawbone could use a mega-sized dose of it, in all honesty.

G:: Well, at least the lab is partially back to normal.

Bikeaby plugs in frequencies with Gaster's guidance and shuffles the coding down the line, Kenny finishes up the repair they're occupied with. Eventually the lab settles back down into that quiet boredom that comes while the scanners run.  
Gaster orders pizza sometime in there. He's been a real monster recently. In the human sense of the word.

S: Toppings are Gaster's choice, though Sans' proposal of extra sauce, extra tomato, light everything else is considered. Well. Jawbone makes a 'huh' noise at it. It means there's snacking to do between tests and typing, at least. Sans squeezes a ketchup packet onto his slice between bites as he chats.  
"So I failed the class, even though I got the highest on the test. It's whatever, though."

G:: "I mean, that's what happens when you sleep through half your classes."  
"Yeah, were you, like... expecting sympathy here?"

Luckily Sans' weird none-pizza isn't the only one Gaster ordered, so nobody has to force it down.  
"Kenny, you didn't even go to college, I don't really think you can really get onto Sans."

S: "OKay, but, come on. Participation grades are bull. I did better on the assignments and crud than like- most of the rest of the class."  
"Yeah, but Sans, you can't just- do _nothing_ ."  
"I can if I pass tests."  
"That's not- that kinda behavior can't be rewarded."  
"Pffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft." Eventually it just descends into Sans blowing a raspberry. There's tomato sauce on his face.

G:: Bikeaby snickers and throws a wadded-up napkin at Sans. It doesn't come close to the smudge on his face.  
"You're sounding a little salty there for it to be whatever, though. "  
"I actually have to agree with Sans."  
"Oh, come on, doc! Don't encourage him."  
Gaster shrugs. "He obviously understood the course material, even while missing so many lectures. There is no point in holding someone back to boredly twiddle their thumbs on material they already know. Again. It sounds like it is simply spiteful."  
"Man, I hate when you make me reevaluate a situation."

S: "Okay, but it's- you could've at least shown up to the lectures and snoozed in the back."  
"I mean. I guess. " Sans actually feels kinda good knowing Gaster gets it too. "The professor would always call on me, though. And I got tired of being put on the spot. After a while it just starts to feel pointless." Actually.... most things do, but that's too depressing to talk about. "I re-did it as an online course and passed."

G: "Obviously."  
Bikeaby scoffs and looks as though he would be rolling his eyes if he had any. He rolls up a slice of pizza like a croissant before dropping it straight down his throat.  
"Man. I'm getting tired of being surrounded by geniuses, this isn't fair."  
"Bikeaby, you're the best tech guy in, like... the kingdom." Kenny had their own smaller pizza with appropriately-sized slices. It's very cute. "I mean. I guess, technically, we're all kind of the best in the kingdom. Or else we wouldn't be here."

S: "Yeah, for real." Sans draws a smiley face on his pizza with the ketchup packet before he takes a bite. "You're always acting like you didn't beat out god knows how many other cantidates to get this spot. You know how many of my classmates wanted to work with the Royal Scientist?"  
"And of all of them, you were the only one that got the internship."  
"Yup. They picked the big lazybones. All those poor disappointed go-getters."

G:: Gaster hums in distaste and checks up on the status of their newest scan. "I have taken on poor, disappointing go-getters before. They have never lasted as long."  
"Those poor souls."

S: "What was the last intern? Three weeks?" That was months before Sans, too. Poor kid had held out as long as they could, but Gaster  is.....notoriously hard to deal with.  
  
"Had one- no joke- show up for the first day, say 'see you tomorrow'- never come back in."

G:: "Good riddance." Gaster waves a hand to put an extra flair on his dismissal. "They were always under my feet, little show-offs."

Bikeaby snickers and actually chews his pizza this time. "Jeeze, doc, why don't you tell us how you really feel?"

S: "I liked that one." Jawbone uses the edge of the table to tip a whole pizza box into his mouth. He chews the four slices in no time flat. "You know, the one who tried to butter us all up with gifts. I still use that coffee cup."  
"....the more you say, the more I'm amazed no one has kicked me to the curb yet."

G:: Kenny smiles mischievously and points to where Sans has a smudge of ketchup on their own face. "Yeah, so you better be on your best behavior."  
"Yeah, like me!"  
" _Not_ like Bikeaby."

S: "Iunno, we kept Bikeaby, too."  
"You make him sound like a pet."  
"Isn't he?"  
.... Well then. Sans wipes the tomato sauce off his face.

G: " _Kept_ is a bit of a stretch, is it not?"  
"Yeah, he just sort of stuck around."  
Bikeaby scoffs and stretches his arms above his head. "You guys are some low-blow motherfuckers, you know that?"

S: " _I_   like you, Bikeaby."  
"Course you do, he gives you weed sometimes."  
"Don't you hang out with Bikeaby on the regular ?"  
"Well, yeah."  
"So.... aren't you like. Friends?"  
"...Iunno. Are we friends, B?"

G: He seems to think about it for a minute. "Nah, you're just a mooch. "  
"Harsh."

S: "Wow. Rude." Jawbone doesn't, however, argue.  
"Well. I think of you guys as friends."  
"Really? Sans, you're so lame."  
"I do!"  
"All of us?"  
"Yeah, all of you."  
"Even the doc?"

"Uh." Can your mentor be your friend? "Sure."

G:: There's a little while where everyone is kind of quiet and seems to realize that, with the way things have been and are going.. Well, the monsters in the room are all they've got. Kenny is the first to speak on it, though.  
"Jeeze, thanks, Sans."  
"Aw, you don't hafta make fun of him for it."  
"Bikeaby, you dork, don't put words in my mouth."

S: Sans is kind of embarrassed, honestly. He knows the others have worked together far longer than he's been around. Know each other, have their own experiences and stories and whathaveyou. But.... well. They're kind of a weird little family, aren't they?  
"I mean. You guys don't have to like me or anything. I'm kind of a nerd."  
"Nah. You're aight, Sans."

G: "We like you just fine."

Kenny flushes, maybe out of a touch of jealousy if they're being honest. "You are the only one who's stuck around this long."

S: "I mean, you know." Sans picks at his napkin, shredding it in his fingers. "You guys have made it pretty enjoyable." He's getting sappy. "Anyways, time for the next round, right?" He can't keep going on, he'll get... really lame.

G: "More like time for a round of drinks, god. Way to remind me I'm stuck with you nerds." Bikeaby sighs and cracks his back over the back of his chair before returning to his terminal.

Gaster starts going through the charts and seems markedly happier with these results than the ones before.  
"Yes, that is more like it. Bikeaby, increase the R1 value by a few degrees, we are very close on that one."

S: Jawbone peeks over the charts for anything that could be bugs, or could need tightening. Sans gets to the grunt work of filing away all the charts for comparison. He needs a break from his thesis, anyways.

They worked in the lab a while, it was very productive. Science, science, science.

G: Eventually it comes down to a final tweak, and Gaster gathers everyone around to check the first soul. It thumps as it always does, floating just above the sensor pad, and the doctor holds his breath as he runs the programs.  
Nothing changes at first, it runs like every other test. But soon the machine hums and thuds, and the soul follows along. It changes, slowly at first and then rapidly, to a pearlescent shade of blue.

"We found it. We found _this_ one, but we found it."  
"Dude, that's fuckin' cool."

S: "Holy shit." Sans wants to touch it, but he isn't sure what would happen if he did. "It'll be different for the others, but-" But this one, they have. They have the exact frequency, the resonance.... "Now that we have it narrowed down, we can."  
"Gimme a minute." Jawbone chews the edge of the table. "I want to bask in this for a second before we rush into the next task list."

G:: "Yes, I think. That may be a very good idea." The soul throws off soft light that catches on the metal surfaces of the lab and the pinprick pupils in Gaster's eyesockets. He looks as awed as everyone else..

S: Sans stands for a while, just listening to the persistent thump, the soft hum of the machine.

Is this what it's like to be human? To have all this potential at your fingertips? Sans feels like the whole universe, the whole - future- is just there, hovering, waiting for them to reach out and take it.

 G:: After a while, they have to start shuffling around again. And then it's snapping out of their awe in order to get back to work.  
"We are very near on two of the others. It will not be long now." Gaster gingerly directs the soul into its case. The light bounces around inside the glass.  
"And then we match each soul to its time distortion, right? In order to figure out how to manipulate it."  
"Yes, precisely. A huge leap forward, this."

S: "It's." Sans laughs, wraps his hands around his coffee mug. What time is it, even? The passage of time is lost in the euphoria of progress. "It's something tangible, isn't it?"

"It's a real honest to god proof of our theory. And a real step." Jawbone is already starting to bug check through the next set of code, ready for the next two souls. If even he's enthusiastic, it's hard not to be.

G: "Good God." Gaster takes the container and simply sits for a few minutes, obviously lost in thought and maybe a little overwhelmed for once. The soul glows from between his fingers, that same soothing aqua blue.  
"You holdin' up, doc?"  
"Give him a minute, this is like. His life's work."

S: There are bright spots of light in Gaster's eyes and over the shapes of his cheekbones, his brow, his skull. The light catches and moves through the glass, between his fingers.  
Sans gets weirdly choked up and has to look away. He busies himself prepping things for the others.

"I think the first thing I do." Jawbone is mostly talking to himself, but to the others, too. "When we get all this figured out? I think the first thing I'm going to do is call my moms."

G: "You mean, like. When we get all this shit catalogued, or when we throw the metaphorical switch?"  
Kenny shrugs. They don't think it matters much. "My grands would have loved to see this.."  
"Shit, are we gonna start getting sappy here?" Bikeaby's ears lay back like he doesn't wanna think about it. He goes into coding but gets distracted when it pops back up into his head. "My dad woulda been proud."

S: Sans has never really heard Bikeaby talk about his dad. Or... well, any of them. Talk about who they might be doing this for. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.  
"Papyrus will- I mean, he doesn't really know much about what I do, and he's always excited for me, but. But Papyrus will be excited, too. To know I've done such a big thing."  
There's a brief lull. It sort of strikes Sans. Who does Gaster have, that isn't in this room? Anyone at all? He shuffles, suddenly feeling  odd. "My junior year biology professor can suck it, though."

G: Bikeaby snorts and playfully punches one of Sans' shoulders. "You can tell 'em that as many times as you like when we get this time shit figured out in full."  
"I... don't think messing with time for fun and excitement would be a good idea."  
"Come on, spoilsport, we can fuck around a little. "

S: "Sure, we can save monsterkind, but we could also theoretically pull some great pranks across time and space." Sans always thinks practically, of course.

"I dunno, doesn't that bring up moral dilemmas? If you have a power that others cannot access, don't you have a responsibility to use it for good?"

G:: "Yeah, use it for good." ..... "Use it for good pizza."  
Kenny huffs, rolls their eyes, and finally makes a move to snap Gaster out of it. "Hey, doctor?"  
"Nn? Yes?"  
"We're going to get started on the next one now, okay?"

Gaster nods noiselessly and settles the soul on a table next to him. It takes him some time and visible physical effort, but he gets around to bring over the next soul.

S: The thrumming glow through the glass keeps catching the corner of Sans' eye socket, but he helps with the setup of the machine, prepping. The awe hasn't really worn off, yet.  
"At this rate, the whole....shebang, should be figured out in...." In, well, no time.

"There's no guarantee synthesizing it will be quick. But. Shit." Jawbone laughs. "Believe it or not, I'm optimistic."

G:: "A little hope goes a long way." Gaster still sounds a bit dreamy, and his gaze is faraway even when he directs it towards specific spots in the lab. Thousand-yard stare in full effect.  
Bikeaby decides to step up to the plate for once and gently directs the doctor into his private office so he can have his moment. He closes the door between them just in case, half-smirking.  
"Jeeze, you think he's gonna snap out of it soon?"  
"Let him have this. Think about it, Gaster has been stuck down here longer than the three of us combined."

S: "He's been the closest to the surface of any of us, had the most monsters around him talk about it. He popped up when war was fresh on everyone's minds. And now there's a chance to get out? I might be a little overwhelmed too." Jawbone doesn't often defend Gaster, but in this moment his respect is clear.

"I mean." Sans brings over the next Soul, thumping in its case. "I think all he's ever done is try to free monsterkind, right? When he first- came into being, I guess, from that minute onwards it was just science in the service of the crown. This is it ."

G: Bikeaby goes quiet while the preliminary scan runs on the next Soul, and then he wordlessly gets to work on narrowing out the coding.  
"So this one, this is the first the doctor actually collected, right?" Kenny has to stand on their tip-toes to get a good look at it.  
"Uh.. Yeah, I think so."  
"I'm caught between waiting for the doctor or going ahead with it. You know, since he's being sentimental." It's kind of weird on Gaster, it doesn't quite fit. No one has really seen him like this.

S: "You know what, I'll go ask." Sans figures the worst case scenario is that the Doc tells him to get out and they get to work on it anyways.  
"Well, don't take too long, I wanna keep going while we're all frenzied with optimism."  
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be a second." Sans taps on the door to Gaster's office before he pokes his head in. "Hey? Doc?"

G: "Nn?" Gaster barely lifts his head. He's got another soul in his lap, his fingers loosely locked to keep it from falling. "Yes, come in."  
Kenny manages to peek around Sans, but they busy themselves elsewhere out of a sense of. Intrusion.

S: "We were about to start the next one. We thought you might want to - you know- be here for it." Sans slips inside and pulls the door to behind him. The soul in Gaster's lap is beating faintly. Sans fidgets with the pocket on his lab coat. "You okay?"

G: It takes Gaster a moment to come back, to get his eyes to properly adjust, but he eventually comes round.  
"No, no, you can go ahead with it. I trust Bikeaby with the programs, it is only-" He fades once more, takes a deep breath through his teeth, and shifts the soul in his lap so he can safely hold out one hand. Not quite searching, more expectant.

S: Sans hesitates a second, but he closes the distance between himself and the desk, leans to take Gaster's hand. Shit, he sure hopes that's what he was asking for. He glances at the Soul in Gaster's lap. Yellow. Sequentially, that's the....second, right? So, Gaster's first. That'd be.... "You okay?"

G:: His hand closes around Sans', not quite tight enough to squeeze. "You keep asking that."

S: Sans does squeeze, just a little.  
"Never seen you this far away. And I know this- all of it- is a big deal. Bigger to you than any of us, no doubt."

G: "Yes." To what, though? Gaster feels himself lagging behind and makes a conscious effort to drag himself forward.  
"Yes, I am alright. I was simply.. overwhelmed for a moment." His molars click together a few times while he recalibrates. "You know, we still are not exactly sure what will happen when we try to go back."

S: Sans hoists himself up onto the desk so that he's in better hand-holding range. (His arms are kinda short...) He keeps his hand wrapped in Gaster's.  
"No, we aren't. It could be really bad. But- I mean." What? "We'll have every advantage they have."

G: "We will have more. " Gaster's fingerbones scrape sharp on the Soul's glass case. "The humans gave us the tools for their own downfall. Foolish."

S: Sans' teeth set together uncomfortably at the scrape of bone on glass, but he keeps his hand linked with Gaster's.  
"We've got their weapons. And now we'll have their- time . And we'll." Well. "We'll have their souls."

G: Gaster does come back, and there's a bit of an edge to him. Like all of him has grown sharp while he was away.  
"And the drop. We will go back, far back, before the war is a twinkle in their eye. Install the implants before the wheels of war start turning, get to training.."

S: "A world where monsters never lost." Something about it feels... odd, to Sans. Kind of frightening. "We couldn't seal them underground like they did us. That'd- I mean, they'd just want to come back like we did, right?"

G:: "We go back, and we scrub every one of them off the face of the earth." Gaster's pupils fade to dull grey pinpricks. "Only then will monsters be able to live in peace."

S: Extinction. Sans gets a chill right from the base of his skull to his last vertebrae, and he slips his hand out of Gaster's to stuff in his pocket.  
"You don't think- that's avoidable?"

G: His head bobs to one side, considering. He is soon done with that, however. "Maybe. For a time. But you have seen yourself what even one human can do to us." Gaster's hand returns to the Soul in his lap. His fingers grip like talons. "No, it would be better to take them by surprise."

S: "I mean. If we travelled back- we could keep war from ever happening, right? Diplomacy?" He doesn't know why he's so stuck on this. Humans are- well, they're dangerous . He knows that. He still gets kind of sick thinking about if one of them wandered through Snowdin and got Papyrus. Has nightmares, even. Still. Shit, extinction . It's kind of.... horrifying.  
"But if we do this- if I find out that. You know. If my thesis determines that killing humans.... changes us. Wouldn't we...... As a whole species, even. Wouldn't we be different?"

G: "Sometimes sacrifices must be made."

S: Sans goes quiet for a while. He still feels cold, even with his hands stuffed in his pocket. "I guess." He tries to imagine a world where he... feels less. Like Gaster does. Where all of them feel less. "I should.... we're running the next test, I should probably...help."

G: Gaster nods again, but he isn't inclined to return just yet.  
"I will be with you shortly. It is fine to continue without me."

S: Sans nods, very shortly. He's quiet when he returns to the lab, but he smiles at everyone.  
"We can go on without him. So- let's get this happening, right?"

G:: Bikeaby pumps both fists in the air and spins around in his rolley chair. "Hell yeeeaaaahh. "

Kenny laughs into both if their hands, still a little giddy from the initial progress.  
"I'm going to start going through the new junk. We can.. We can't synthesize yet, but we can at least start pulling base elements for it. Right?" They're buzzing a little, excited.

S: Sans is supposed to feel this euphoric, but he just feels weird and scared and _gross_. He manages to fake it pretty well, though.  
"Shit, yeah. Pull out those building blocks. I'm gonna- I'm gonna order something. Not pizza. I'm gonna order Chinese. And we're gonna feast while we work."  
Jawbone wheels around in a little loop.  
"Fuck yeah. Alright. Toss me those sheets, Bikeaby, we're gonna be in business before the metaphorical sun goes down. And maybe the literal one, somewhere out there."

* * *

  
G:: "Aay, batter batter, swing ....." It's been a few hours, and the lab is bright with light. It bounces off the surfaces, aqua and orange and deep blue. The next is on the line, gently thumping away. It continues to gently thump and... not much else. Bikeaby groans, slurps up what's left of his noodles, and drags himself back to his console. "Aaand a miss."  
"How long you think until we have this one?"  
"I got the others so fast because I was already so close to them. I don't know what the hell this guy's problem is."

S: "It should be getting _simpler_ once we've got this many under our belt, not harder."  
"Ah, Sans. You clearly have no lab experience. Something always decides to be a fuckup halfway through."  
"Still."

G:: Bikeaby shrugs a little and gets to coding.  
"I mean, it's not like it's gonna be a huge loss. I can do it, it's just gonna go back to slow processing. You know."  
"I think we just got so used to everything being awesome for a split second."

S: "Back to the grind." It could be worse. Sans can't find it in him to talk about Gaster's plans for the surface. To talk about how maybe he wants to- hold back, a little. "Shit, we got more done in the last few hours than I can ever remember. It's not the worst."  
"Yeah, but it was so damn enjoyable knocking out three so quick."

G:: " Alright, alright. This is startin' to sound less like general complaints and more like passive-agressive hints."  
Kenny laughs and takes a wanton from the share plate. They try very hard ti remember not to double dip. "Maybe that should tell you something, huh?"  
Bikeaby flushes out if irritation and nearly puts his (non)face to his screen.

S: "Aw, c'mon, B. You've been in a shit mood since you ran out of weed. You were hyped this morning, though, and you worked fuckin hard. It was cool." Jawbone pulls no punches.  
"I really was just excited.. " Sans doesn't particularly want to rush anymore, either, though.

G:: Bikeaby grumbles to himself, but there's a thanks, Sans somewhere in there.  
They all eventually get back to their previous tasks, now that it isn't straight progress for hours on end.

S: Sans finds he has plenty of time to fidget, and for his mind to wander. Between data entry he fiddles with his phone. He wants to talk to someone, but....

_hey grillby. you got time for texting between drunks or anything?_

G:: _New phone. Who's this?_

S: _grillby you assshole_

G:: _Rude._

S: _you were the one like 'talk to me when you need me' and now this, who's rude_  
  
G:: Oh, it's Sans.  
_I don't remember ever giving you my number. What's wrong?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time there will be more adult content and Sansby. Also, for some reason, that Temmie Village scene is one of my favorite things? It's so stupid.  
> There's also an illustration of the Waterfall scene [here](http://mister13eyond.tumblr.com/post/136369956497/prove-it-to-me-proof-relies-on-tests-and-so) .


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Grillby exchange messages, and spend time together. Then it's back to business as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken a little longer than previous ones because I've been having some issues with the emojis that we used in this part. I'm really hoping they work this time.
> 
> This chapter has adult content again. Which is to say, there's smut. Also, I know this fic seems pretty sansby-heavy for a Sanster fic, but after this the Sanster will continue to build and pick up. Thanks for the patience, you're all the best.

_What's wrong?_

Were the emojis inappropriate? He hasn't been texting for long.. _  
_

S: _ok well i maybe swiped it off the net. nice emojis._

He doesn't really answer the question, though.

 

G: 

These are fun.. Wait, there was originally a reason why Sans texted him for the first time ever.  
_Are you that bored of saving the kingdom_    _?_  
  
_S: maybe kind of haha._  

That makes him sound kind of shitty, doesn't it?  __  
im not even sure im saving the kingdom tbh  
  
G:: It takes Grillby a little while to text back, partially due to a sudden rush and partially due to the need to think over whatever it is Sans is trying to say. Eventually he gets back around to it. __  
What has you unsure?  
  
S: Sans stares at his phone for a while after the message arrives and jolts him out of data entry.  
_hard to explain. i just don't feel good._  
  
G:     _I'm all ears._  
  
S: Oh my god. Sans quietly snickers at his phone. At least that makes him feel a little better..... __  
you ever get scared about humans? up on the surface, when we all get out of here?  
  
G:: Interesting question. Grillby has to think on it for a while. __  
Not scared. Curious, though, about what it will be like.  
  
S: _what if bad things happen when we get out of here?_  
  
G:: _Are you afraid?_  
  
S: He doesn't exactly answer.  
_what if we do bad things? really, really fucked up stuff, in the name of saving monsters?_  
  
G:: Oh. This is a bit heavy over text, isn't it? He would be much better help if Sans was right in front of him.  
_Would you like to talk about it after you get off work?_  
  
S: Sans wants to talk about it right now, but he supposes he can wait.  
_yes, please._  
He fidgets for a second before sending another message to try and lighten the mood. 

 G:   _Look, you're king._

S: it's too much work ruling alone, i now crown you co king  
G:  _Why Sans, I never knew you felt that way_    
  
S: _hey, if we tie the knot, do i get co ownership of the bar?_    
  
G:  _Dowry?_  
  
_S:_ here's the dowry, my hot bod is inheritance enough 

G:: He's getting distracted from customers by texting Sans.. Grillby takes a little while to catch up behind the bar. __  
I can't make burgers and drinks from your hot bod  
  
**S:** my hot bod can draw customers. i'll lay on the counter top and people will be so turned on they'll buy shots. He's being ridiculous. But something has to distract him from his slow data entry.  
__  
G:: _That has to be at least two health code violations._  
  
S: nah you can totally use me as a serving platter. it's the only way i'll get any meat on my bones.  
  
G:: Can we stop talking about this? That mental image was not pleasant.  
  
S: _not getting you hot and bothered, g?_  
At least he doesn't feel as shitty as before. Thanks, Grillby.  
_you know you wanna eat fries off my ass._  
  
_G:: Shouldn't you be working?_  
Grillby should be, too. He has to lay his phone aside for a while if he wants to actually get anything done.  
  
S: Sans should. He glances up at everyone. It's back to the lull-action-lull cycle it was at before. He's been chipping away at his thesis in the meantime, but it's kind of just....making him sad. All these dead monsters, all these statistics. The correlation is starting to shape up... it's looking like proof. Somehow it doesn't make him feel any better.  
_i just wanna go home and sleep with you tbh._  
  
G:: Grillby checks the message a half-hour before he can respond to it. If there is one thing he can say about Sans, it's that he is in the very least honest with his intentions.  
_There will be a drink waiting for you when you get off._  
  
S: _you're the best, g_  
The rest of Sans' night drags by, but at least they've all made significant progress by the time everyone is tired and ready to go home and crash.

G:: Gaster dismisses them with the promise that the last Soul will be finished by the time they all return in the morning. Bikeaby doesn't ask why he didn't bring forth the second soul before, and neither does anyone else. Not with how he's had it close all evening, especially not with that look in his eyes.

Grillby's is already closed by the time Sans returns to Snowdin. Slow night. But it means the bar is cleaned and spotless and empty, save for the bartender himself and a cold rocks glass already set out at Sans' usual spot.

S: Sans does his best not to track in snow, dusting himself off at the door, tired shuffle to the bar. It's warm inside (always is) and Sans' usual barstool seems comfier than usual.  
"How's your night been?"

G:: Grillby is cleaning little spots off glasses and looking very much like a very stereotypical bartender because of it.  
"Looks like it's gone better than yours."

S: "All told, it hasn't even been the worst night."  
Well. Maybe. Sans shifts his glass around, staring into it. What's his drink? Ice? How's he supposed to get drunk off ice....  
"It's a lot. I don't know."

G:: Grillby watches Sans lift up his glass, get the tiny dregs of water from it, and get clocked in the teeth by the ice sphere. No, that's not.. He sighs and takes the glass to fill it. What does Sans like? Whiskey has generally gone over well, so Grillby gives him one of the mid-shelf bourbons.  
"If you need a few drinks to loosen up, you wouldn't be the first."

S: "Yeah." Sans feels kind of dumb for trying to drink the ice, now. Whatever, this drink is nice. Warm. Kind of burns.  
"I'll.... I'll get to it. For now, let's just... talk about shit?"

G:: "I think some of my neighbors didn't like your friends the other night." They were, admittedly, very rambunctious.  
"I received a noise complaint from next door."

S: Sans snorts into his glass.  
"It's a bar ." Who lodges a noise complaint against a bar? Admittedly.... the crew was kind of a mess. "It's mostly Bikeaby. He's not that much older than me. But they're all- they're a good team."

G:: Grillby shrugs.  
"It's a bar in a small town where the only truly exciting thing that happens is the occasional birthday or wedding. I took care of it, in any case."

S: "Took care of it how? You have to talk to the Royal Guard or something?"  
Not that the Guard would ever have a bone to pick with Grillby. All of them seem to love it here.

G:: "Nono, not at all. I simply explained the situation and smoothed things over." Not at all that exciting of a story.  
"I can mix something for you, if you like."

S: "Maybe." Sans stares into his drink. "I don't wanna- get drunk ." It's just hard to bring up the Gaster stuff without feeling kind of anxious.

G:: Grillby nods. He doesn't know what the hang-up is, but he will respect the need for it.  
"Then might I suggest you let me mix that into something else?"

S: "Yeah. Okay." Sans pushes the glass across the bar to him.  
"So. Uh. New phone. I saw you signed up for Undernet, too. What's up with that?"

G:: Grillby sighs with a crackle, shaking his head.  
"Something Cinder has done. She seems convinced I need to get out there and connect." That's just silly. "I do plenty of connecting at the bar."

S: Cinder? Must be his daughter. That's kinda adorable...  
"Alright, but aside from me -" And Sans doesn't count for much- "Who've you seen outside the bar lately?"

G:: "I have a life outside of this building, you know? I get out plenty."

S: "Really?" Sans is skeptical. But maybe kind of impressed. "I have no idea how, you're here pretty much all the time."

G:: Well, that much is true. Grillby shrugs.  
"You find a lot of extra hours in the day when you don't need them to sleep."

S: "Lucky you." Sans kind of can't decide whether he'd rather never sleep, or sleep from now until.... forever. "I'm not keeping you from any kind of exciting life, right? I mean, dragging you back to my place and stuff."

G: "Sans, I'm a middle-aged business owner and father. The exciting life is far behind me." Grillby hisses from what could be a quiet chuckle.  
"I am more concerned about you constantly looking to hang out with me, to be quite honest."

S: Sans snorts and pokes his finger into a circle of condensation left by his glass.  
"You're pretty cool. And good in bed. Why not hang out with you?" Well, maybe because he's a middle-aged business owner and father. Sans won't begin to dig into that one, everyone at the lab has already given him a hard enough time about his preferences.

G: Grillby mixes a drink with what's left of Sans' drink and sets it back out on the same ring it left.  
"Ah. Well, thank you." That's fairly flattering.

S: Sans sips it. It goes down much easier now.  
"Y'know, just being honest." There's plenty to like about someone attractive who puts up with Sans' bullshit. "After I finish my drink, wanna, um...."

G: "Are you only going to ask me when you're unhappy and looking for a distraction?"

S: Sans scrunches down in his jacket.  
"No. Am I only.... I just haven't had. Free time." Shit, he's a bad person, isn't he?

G: "It's alright if you do." Grillby throws that out before Sans can think on it too hard. "Everyone needs a distraction every now and then. Sometimes it helps us get to what we want to say."

S: Ah. Sans still feels bad about it. He takes another long drink of his drink.  
"I felt really great last time. I just- thought I might feel better. Taking my mind off stuff." But it still sounds like he's using Grillby as a personal stress relief, doesn't it?

G: Grillby reaches across the bar and takes one of Sans' hands. His palms change to a warmer yellow to shake the cold from his bones.  
"I would be happy to take your mind off of things for a while."

S: Sans laces their hands together. Grillby is warm, a little intangible. The opposite of how Gaster's hand feels in his. It's an interesting contrast. He finishes his drink.  
"Yeah. Thank you. Let's."

G:: "Is your brother asleep? Perhaps it would be a little less strange in the morning if you came to my home, instead." Grillby gathers up his coat and switches from his dress shoes to snow boots. He nearly lost a toe the other night, he won't be taking any more chances.

S: "Yeah, he is." And... that actually sounds like a way better choice. Sans has never been in Grillby's home. Does he live in Snowdin? "Your place sounds....nice, let's do that." And Grillby doesn't have to see how much Sans has trashed his room since last time.

G: It's gently snowing when Grillby locks up the bar. It never quite goes totally dark in Snowdin, but Grillby is definitely the brightest thing walking through the night. His fire just barely flickers to the underside of the umbrella he holds over the both of them.  
"Had you really never been with anyone before you invited me to your home?"

S: Sans doesn't particularly need the umbrella, but staying close to Grillby under it is nice. He's a warmth and a light leading Sans through the snow.  
"No. I mean, in school I kinda - I didn't find the time. Couple chances came up, but I was so busy all the time. Got kinda handsy with one of my classmates at a party, but I fell asleep on em." Man, that makes him sound lame.... "Have you been with a lot of people?"

G:: "Not by my own standards. I would wager not by anyone else's, either." Grillby shrugs, and the umbrella gently bobs. "I had a partner for several years, but she went her own way after a time." He isn't upset or sad about it. Sometimes people grow apart.

S: Grillby seems so at ease with himself, with the world, with things. Sans can't imagine. He's kinda envious.  
"Was she your kid- uh, Cinder's mom?" He doesn't know much about how fire monster families work. It feels strange and kind of nosy poking into Grillby's life, but he actually finds himself curious to know more about him. He does have a life outside the bar, after all.

G:: Grillby actually flushes, blue flaring up at his cheeks. He sputters a little before half-laughing.  
"Noo, no no. Not at all, I made Cinder on my own." His house is closer to the edge of town, out of the way in a way that most monsters don't really think about it. It's quaint and quiet and suits him just fine.

S: Oh! Well, that seems... logical. Monsters are born in all sorts of ways. Sans isn't a biologist, so he doesn't question it often. He looks around at the quiet house, the trees, the snow around it. It seems...nice. Homey. A good place for someone that works hard, wants to come home from the stress of the bar.  
"This is really nice."

G: "Thank you, Sans." His door isn't even locked. Grillby hangs his coat just inside the door and removes his damp boots. "Would you mind removing your shoes, please? I keep it as dry in here as possible."

S: "Oh, yeah." It must be a lot of work, living in Snowdin.... Sans has to admire Grillby's dedication. Seems like he'd be so much more at home in Hotland. He shakes off his jacket outside the door before he hangs it up, kicks his shoes off on the mat on the porch and steps inside in his dry socks.  
"Have you always been in Snowdin?"

G: "No. No, not always." Usually Grillby doesn't bother with lamps as he makes his own light, but he does have a few lanterns scattered around. He lights enough of them so that Sans won't have to stumble over his furniture before directing himself to a big fireplace in his den. The wood inside is already dry and takes flame hungrily. "Please, sit. Would you like another drink?"

S: Sans plops cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace. His knees creak a little with it. Spine, too. He's been hunched over a computer for so long...  
"Yeah, sure. I could drink."

G: Grillby nods and busies himself with that. When he returns, it's with two rocks glasses. Only one drink is actually on the rocks. |  
"But you don't want to get drunk, I remember."

S: "Thanks." Sans doesn't know why it makes a difference, but it does. His fingers clink against his glass, and the ice clinks inside. Over the soft crackle of Grillby and his fireplace it's a high, bright sound. He doesn't really know what to say or do next, so he just drinks his drink.

G: When Grillby drinks, it comes with a deep hiss and a flare. With each sip, his flame grows a little higher and hotter before settling back down. His own hands warm his drink.  
" _Would_ you like to talk about what's bothering you?"

S: It's pleasing, watching Grillby flare and crackle. He's close enough that Sans scoots so their knees touch.  
"I'm not sure I'm allowed to." Gaster would be furious if he knew Sans was discussing secret scientific plans with someone else. Worse still, Sans thinks he might be wrong for hesitating so much about this. Hasn't the king talked about the extinction of humanity since he started collecting souls? "It's heavy. And.... complicated. And tied to a lot of stuff I'd have to explain about the lab." But.... "I can try for the CliffNotes version."

G:: "This is for your benefit, Sans. If you don't want to explain it to me, you don't have to." It's been a while since Grillby has sat on his own floor. He leans back against one of his chairs to get comfy.

S: Sans taps his fingerbones against his glass to hear the clink again. He does want to talk about it, despite everything.  
"Can we after.... y'know." Maybe he'll feel better.

G:: Grillby notices for the first time that Sans seems to be too shy to actually say 'sex'.  
"Yes, if you want. That's perfectly alright with me."

S: Sans hesitates for a while, sets his drink down.  
"Would we go upstairs?" He doesn't guess Grillby would have a bed, or need one. He feels oddly exposed in the den like this, though. Does Grillby's daughter live here, too? Is there a chance they might wake her? Sans realizes he's. Well, acting like a bashful virgin. It's not particularly like him, and he isn't sure he likes it.

G:: "In the attic? Too dusty, I'd burn my house down." Grillby appears to be laughing about that, though it's very gentle. "Come on. I don't have a bed, but we can at least go somewhere without such large windows."

S: Sans finishes his drink and sets the glass in the sink, then shuffles close to Grillby to let him lead the way. He's not even sure he's particularly turned on, not yet, it's just that being held and touched and his mind blanking out like last time seem so appealing. Grillby is warm and Sans threads his fingers into the fabric of his shirt as he follows.

G:: Grillby takes Sans to a room that logically should be a bedroom, but when he lights a candle inside, it turns out to be something of a small library. There are shelves on three walls and a sofa positioned in front of another hearth. Grillby never really noticed before how many he had... Was he a bit predictable??  
"I suppose your house may have been the more comfortable option for you.."

S: Sans snorts, and somewhere in there he finds his usual self.  
"Nah, I'm _sans-erely_ not bothered." Wow, that was bad even for him, he really is nervous.... The couch is comfy, though, and Sans sprawls out on it, stretching. This is so many books.... how does Grillby have time to read them all? Oh, right... no sleeping. "It's decadent, I'm like some heiress in a crappy old human movie." Heiresses had sex on couches in libraries, probably.

G: "Does that make me the butler? But this is my house.." Which he invited Sans to. Surely on principle, he should be the heiress. Grillby immediately goes back on this thought by putting away a few books still stacked by his sitting area.

S: "You're, uh. The mysterious man who owns the mansion. It's a murder mystery. And the heiress turns out to be the murderer?" This metaphor is getting out of hand. Sans catches the back of Grillby's shirt and pulls him onto the couch. "But then the heiress is tragic or whatever, and they flee the country, and - human movies are kinda stupid."

G:: Grillby flutters and smokes in response to being pulled back, his flame wavering for a second out of sheer surprise. He's... pretty lightweight, actually, it shouldn't startle him that Sans can kind of haul him around.  
"That storyline seems to end with us getting married, and I'm just not sure I can handle that sort of commitment."

S: "Not prepared to give me half the bar? So much for my dastardly plan to get unlimited fries." Sans scoots closer to Grillby. It's never until he's touching him that he can really remember just how little substance to Grillby there is, how much of him is just- flame and magic. Sans fiddles with Grillby's tie, loosening it. "Don't worry, I won't pop the question after sleeping together twice."

G: Grillby clicks... something. It sounds like his tongue, but. He doesn't have one. How does he talk?  
"I can't imagine being a househusband while you're off doing science all day. Bringing home the metaphorical bacon." Human allegories, like human movies, are kind of stupid. Grillby adds a little bulk to his form in order to feel more substantial, pushing outwards in a way different from the wildfire he was last time.

S: "What, cooking and cleaning my sloppy room not your style? Tsk, tsk." Sans places his hands flat on Grillby's chest and is pleased to find there's almost no give this time, flame more solid than before. He slips the tie over his head and starts fiddling buttons open. "Just think, I could be the lazy sitcom dad, and you could be my beleaguered spouse." Human gender roles are also stupid. A lot of human stuff is.

G: "I think I preferred the butler-slash-millionaire and the heiress." Grillby shifts and settles so the arm of the sofa is at his back and he can actually get the two of them comfortable. Sans looks tired, there's barely any light reflecting in his eyes.. "But I doubt either of us are good actors." Last time was fairly fast, now that he thinks about it. If Sans wants to go slower, he'll let him.

S: "I think I'm content being a scientist who's friends with a bartender. Who sleeps with him sometimes." Sans pops open another button. There's nothing unexpected under Grillby's clothes or anything- just warm, warm flame, tangible and nicely shaped. But Sans finds himself treating this like an exploration all the same. God, Sans is tired. But this is- nice. Going kinda slow is nice. "I'm a shit actor."

G: Grillby slides a hand over Sans' jaw, his thumb spreading out to move along cheekbone. The other settles on one of Sans' hipbones, two fingers dipping below his waistband.  
"You know, I said that. But it's not really true, now that I think about it." His head drops to Sans' shoulder, lighting up that entire side of his face. "You act all the time."

S: "Do I?" Sans shudders a little despite the heat. He lets his head lull back a little, finds himself relaxing bit by bit. His fingerbones slip between cotton and flame, feeling out shapes and soaking up warmth. Grillby's head feels solid and kind of nice against him.... They didn't really spend a lot of time outright embracing or anything like that last time, did they?  

G: "Don't you?" His arms loop around Sans to hold him steady.  
"You were acting for your friends that night in the bar. And for your brother. For me, until you let me catch on."

S: Oh, geez. Sans isn't supposed to fall apart already, and yet here he is trying to. His hands hold tight to Grillby, and he rests his forehead in the space between his throat and shoulder. Breathe, breathe, Sans.  
"I guess." It's just a lot, suddenly, being held. Being called on his- whatever it is he does. That thing where he pretends like everything is fine. He shakily undoes more of Grillby's shirt buttons so he can slip his arms around his waist, bone to bare flame. "It's not like- I'm not that good at it. I'm sure everyone can tell I'm a wreck."

G: Grillby doesn't flicker very much anymore, more solid than he's been in quite a while. When he squeezes Sans into an embrace, there's weight to it.  
"You try very hard to seem as if you're not trying at all. It can be pretty convincing." But he supposes the acknowledgement is the more important part of that, isn't it?

S: Shit. He's all choked up, this isn't sexy. His hands run up and down Grillby's back, and he buries his face further in Grillby's shoulder. God, he smells good...  
"Least there's that." He scoots out of the embrace just long enough to slip Grillby's shirt the rest of the way off before burying himself back in his arms. "I don't want anyone to worry."

G: "I know." Grillby carefully slides Sans' hoodie off of him, trying very hard not to wind up tangling anything. "And that's alright. But it can't last forever, you know."

S: Sans presses his teeth to the space between Grillby's shoulder and throat. It's not a bite, or even really a nip, so much as it is as close to a kiss as he can really manage. He's kinda shaky, despite how warm he feels all over. It's probably because he's getting choked up like an idiot.  
"It doesn't need to, things will get better eventually and then I'll feel fine."

G: Grillby deflates a little, but he doesn't push the issue. It's really something to discuss later, he thinks, after Sans has loosened up a bit and gotten some rest. _Boy needs therapy._ He slides his hands up under Sans' shirt and runs gently up and down his spinal column. "Alright. Alright."

S: Sans shudders again, all up and down his spine where Grillby is touching. It's a pleasant shiver, though, and not one from him trying not to fall apart again.  
"Anyways, I talk to you." Sometimes. When he can. When he's able to without getting drunk or needing to be coaxed into it with sex. He closes his teeth around warm flame again, gentle.

G: "When I can convince you to." No, that isn't quite true. Sans messaged him without any prompting at all earlier, just as he said he would. That's certainly more than Grillby expected. "When you really need to." And that is what matters. He presses a spark against one of Sans' cheekbones and carries it down over his jaw and his first few vertebrae.

S: That's impossibly nice, a traveling heat spot that Sans tilts his head back to let roam.  
"You're. Really good. You know?" Not just at sex. Although, with Sans' limited experience thus far, he's pretty good at that. "At - this whole thing. Making me feel better." Grillby is honestly probably better than Sans deserves. His hands roam a little, over expanses of warm flame, dipping into Grillby's waistband.

G:: "I want to make you feel better." That is, in a roundabout way, why he became a bartender. Though making people happier through alcohol has its moral hitches. But it's not like that's all he serves.  
Grillby is getting off track.  
Last time he got rather lucky, didn't he? Overwhelming Sans seemed to work for him just fine, but Grillby should expect as much from someone who's never done this before. He'll be much more careful this time.

S: Sans breathes out shaky, ribs expanding and releasing. He assumes this'll work like before, but he doesn't really know . On his own he tends to concentrate on pressure points, on certain sensations, figuring out what he likes. Grillby sort of flooded everything so much Sans pretty much shook to pieces over it. It's the difference between a tremor and an earthquake. He doesn't know if it'd be like that with anyone else? Monster sex is a whole study in and of itself, probably, one Sans doesn't have the scientific fortitude to devote his energy to. He contents himself scooting until he's practically in Grillby's lap so that there's more weight and pressure, ribs to torso, heat to bone.  
"Lucky me, you're great at it."

G:: Grillby hums and pops, nearly in line with the fire going in his hearth. Sprites can sense things like that sometimes.  
"Thank you, Sans. I'm glad I haven't been comforting a brick wall." When he chuckles, his mouth opens against Sans' jaw and a tongue of flame darts out to lick across it.

S: "You probably could comfort- ah." Wow, that's. Wow. Sans tips his head back a little so Grillby's mouth can sit better against his jaw. That's nice. "A brick wall. And the brick wall would- wow. Would learn to talk so it could thank you, honestly I don't know where I'm going with this, keep doing that." His femurs press either side of Grillby's torso, squeeze a little.

G: "You like it there?" When he speaks, it's from his core. The mouth appears to be.. purely aesthetic in its function. Or maybe just a bit functional despite its aesthetics. Useless, save for this. Grillby is pleased it's working, either way. He tilts Sans' head even further back with one hand so he can lick across the vertebrae leading into his skull.

S: "S'sensitive." He never messes with his own bones there, why hasn't he thought to? He breathes in sharp, leaning, letting Grillby tip him. "It's, uh." His voice sticks. "It's really sensitive at- the cartilage." When he thinks about it, he guesses it's sort of like his throat. Not that his voice really comes from anywhere except his own skull. But it still feels like it's from somewhere around there. He wonders if the rumbles of it catch in his vertebrae and against Grillby's tongue. Wonder, wonder.

G: Grillby slowly tips Sans until he eventually winds up on his back.  
"Cartilage. Why's that?" Sans is chock-full of it. That could explain why last time went over so swimmingly, couldn't it? It doesn't really matter in the long run, Grillby has more pressing things to attend to. His hands fall to the hem of Sans' shirt, bunching it and pushing it up his ribs.

S: Sans draws breath sharp between his teeth. He always feels so bare with his ribs out, barer still on his back under Grillby. He's still got his femurs squeezing Grillby's hips.  
"Dunno. Just feels- nice." Technically, he thinks anything he wants to be pleasurable and believes will be pleasurable, well, will be. Magic and intent. "Hips n ribs are good too- when. When I'm." When he doesn't have the luxury of a fire sprite to fill him up.

G:: _Shy.  
_ "Alright." It's a hard sell, not collapsing down into a pool of heat again, but Grillby wants to do it differently this time. He's the kid's first sexual partner, he can at least learn what Sans actually likes. "Here?" His hand finds the bottom-most floating ribs and traces up the cartilage to sternum, heat at his fingertips.

S: "Whoo. Boy. Yeah." What the hell kind of reply is that.... "S'almost ticklish." Or that could be because Grillby's touches are light and warm and careful. It feels nice, different than the usual scrape and squeeze of bone on cartilage by himself. "What, uhm. What do you like, usually?"

G: "Dry tinder." It's the truth disguised as a joke. It's so difficult to find a partner that doesn't wind up... damp in places. The kiss of flame serving as Grillby's mouth wanders down to Sans' shoulder and collarbones.

S: Oh, ooh. Sans turns his head so Grillby can reach his collarbone better.  
"Boy are you in luck with me." It's few and far between, the monsters who would be best suited to. Well, to fucking a skeleton. "How do you- how do partners usually make you...." He never actually figured out if Grillby came last time...

G: "Hm?" His hum comes with a gentle waver down his back. Grillby rucks up Sans' shirt the rest of the way off of him and drops down to mouth at his sternum. His fingers slide between ribs, occasionally curling into them where they can fit.

S: Sans' hands find Grillby's back and roam it, pressing flame, smoothing over the shape of him. It's a really good shape... Sans shudders, groans.  
"That's - that's really good." But where was his original question? "How do- you know. How do you like to be gotten off? Whad'ya like - people to do? To you?"

G: "Ah!" It's a sounds that tells he understands, not that Sans has done some magical thing to him. "I can't."

S: "Oh." Sans props himself up on his elbows a little, suddenly looking worried.  
"I - then. I won't be able to reciprocate? I mean, I know this is for me or whatever, but I want you to get something out of...."

G: Grillby shrugs and drops his head back down to Sans' sternum. He follows it down with little pecks of heat.  
"I'm alright with it."

S: Sans shudders, head tipping back with the sensation of Grillby's heat where he's so sensitive...  
"Do you- enjoy it, though? Feel stuff? We can at least - feel good together, right?" He seemed to really like it last time.....

G: Oh, this might be an issue. Grillby backs up and sits on one of his knees, his other foot planted on the floor.  
"I derive pleasure from being intimate with people. I like spending time with people this way. As far as actual sexual pleasure goes, it's something unknown to me." It isn't the first time he's explained this.

S: Ah. Sans fidgets. Even though the hearth is crackling and warm, it's a little colder where Grillby is no longer touching him. Sans is quiet for a second, then he snorts.  
"This is gonna sound terrible.... but.....honestly." He grins up at Grillby. "Honestly, this makes me feel way less guilty about being...." What word would describe it? Lazy? Needy? Selfish? "I think I heard someone say 'pillow prince'."

G: "Not something I can say I've heard before." Grillby still fizzles a laugh. He doesn't mind that at all.  
"Though I am happy I am able to ease your mind about this whole thing. I trust I can, ah. Return to what I was doing, guilt-free?"

S: Sans would blush if he could. He's still sheepishly grinning. It should bother him. He knows most people like to know their partner is also deriving pleasure from sex. But then, Grillby is . Just because it's not physical doesn't mean he doesn't want to.  
"Y-yeah, yeah. Was just getting good."

G: Grillby laughs again, though it is much deeper this time. A true chuckle, not just the crackle of fire from him.  
"Then you should let me know." His head drops down so he can lick fire up Sans' ribs, his hands holding hips steady.

S: "Hnnh." Sans' hands find Grillby's head, throat, shoulders, holding where he can. He's grateful Grillby is more tangible, because if he didn't have anything to hold onto, he thinks he might shake apart and rattle away. "Yeah, i- deal, I can let you know what's good." He's kind of breathless.

G: Grillby settles between Sans' legs, though there isn't a lot of space and his thighs wind up spreading out wide.  
"And what you want more of. If you can." Grillby understands if embarrassment holds him back. He licks over the space of Sans' sternum, fiery tongue lapping around the smoothed edges.

S: Having his legs splayed open and Grillby between them... having Grillby lapping at his ribs like that.  
"If I can." He's already flustered. For supposedly being so nonchalant about it last time.... "That- ah." That's a lot. That's good. "Can, uh. Can you-" Shit, he's embarrassed. He throws his forearm over his eye sockets. "Can you touch my pelvis too?"

G: Grillby hums, and his hands shift from the waistband of Sans' shorts to the crowns of his pelvis. They're gently-sloped and wide set, and his thumbs easily settle along inner curves.

S:  "Hhn." Sans keeps his arm thrown over his eyesockets. Between the heat sparking over his sensitive ribs and the pressure and heat at his pelvis.... The tongue of flame over his ribs is smooth and sinuous and makes his spine arch a little.  
"That feels- really good."

G: "Good. I want to make you feel good." Grillby slides lower, until Sans' knees wind up prodding him in the armpits. Jeeze, he really is bony. Again, he can see the shine of the implant attached to Sans' spine. It's very bright in the low light, reflects brighter as he carefully tilts his head down to blow over Sans' vertebrae.

S: Hot air creeps up his vertebrae, over sensitive cartilage, jolting up it. Grillby is low and Sans can just sort of bury his hands in the loose licking flames atop his head. They weave and flicker and move on Sans' fingerbones, and he groans.  
"That's- teasing. In a- a good way."

G: Grillby pushes more flame up through Sans' fingers, spreading over his palms. His head splits wide, wide, into a hot mouth and clamps around Sans' spine. He can taste the copper of the implant, a strange tang that turns him odd greens and chartreuse.

S: "Hnnnh!" It's a sharp and needy sound. Sans arches into it, spine drawn taut, sharp fingerbones gripping at as much flame as he can grasp, what bare substance he can hold.  
"Oh, god." Around the implant, it still sort of hurts , but it's. It's _good_ . A good hurt. "Don't- stop that, s'so _good_ ."

G:: Now there's a response he can latch onto. A hand slides to explore closer to Sans' spine, and he finds the shape of his sacrum. Oh, that's so strange.. Full of holes and ridges and subtle lines to trace. He palms it, his fingers teasing around all those odd variances.

S: "Hhholy." Sans laughs, breathless. " Fuck. That's so much better with you touching it than- just me." The places where Grillby's fingers fit, the sharp bite of heat around his spine and the implant combined with the more pinpoint pleasure of hands on sensitive bone.

G: When Grillby pulls away from Sans' spine, he leaves little pools of fire around the edges of the implant. They dissipate quickly, the metal just slightly oxidized beneath.  
"More, then?"

S: The sizzle of the metal gets Sans squirming. He's played with the implant before (of course he has- Gaster did it, Gaster touched him here, Gaster pressed this spot-) but the sound of it heated is strangely erotic.  
"Yeah. Yeah- more." If he can even handle it.

G: "If anything is too much, tell me." Grillby slides off the couch and onto the floor, his knees tucked neatly below him. His hands shift to finally slide Sans' shorts off his hips and toss them to the side, and he repositions Sans' femurs so they rest on Grillby's shoulders. His fingers slide over bone again, pelvis and spine and floating ribs.

S: Sans props himself up on his elbows so he can look down at Grillby. The view is.... really nice. More so with the little jolts of pleasure that run through to the marrow of him through each little touch. He reaches out again, burying his fingers in licking flame atop Grillby's head.  
"I'll tell you. If I can't take it." But he _wants_ to take it.

G: He actually didn't get a chance to study much of this before, so Grillby takes a moment to familiarize himself with the many shapes and hollows of Sans' pelvis. He never knew it was actually so complicated..  
"Do you know all these different parts? I know you've gone to school for.. physics, was it? I don't suppose you'd have a very intimate knowledge of anatomy, too.."

S: "I flipped through a few anatomy books for my biology classes." But that was back sophomore year.... it's hard to remember. Especially with the buzz of arousal in his skull, pleasure still fuzzing the edges of his thoughts. "There's, uh. Ilium.... the cartilage there is.... symphisiy? Symphisis?" He's trying not to touch the parts as he names them.  
"The foramen? That's the little... openings." Pop quizzes are like the worst for maintaining erotic confidence.

G: "Mmh." Grillby simply nods, studying the few spots Sans gives description to. Well, this could go badly. But Sans did promise to say something if anything was wrong. He fingers again move to trace along the slopes of pelvic crests as he presses fire into a foramen.

S: "Ooohhhh my god." Sans digs his fingers into flame, femurs trembling on Grillby's shoulders. "Oh, that feels- kinda weird- kinda - good weird." He's threaded his fingers through countless times, of course, but his fingers don't have much substance to them. It's that same strange kind of fullness that having Grillby in him evoked last time, smaller scale. The sense of being full. He's got his teeth parted. He feels kinda dizzy.

G: Being able to shift between substance and fluid motion has a menagerie of perks. Grillby's fingers are constant, nearly solid as they slide down along Sans' femur and back up. His coccyx has plenty of ridges to play along, the shape itself sharp and interesting. And so much space here, for what? He could fit both hands, if he wanted.. Instead, Grillby splits a mouth open again and licks from one foramen to the other, following the angles of Sans' pelvis.

S: "Jjjjeeeesssuuuussss." It's a hiss between teeth, a dizzy sound. He won't be able to take much more....  
"that, uhm." His fingers are trembling. Femurs, too. "That cartilage spot. It's... if you... I usually. Finish, with... with that." Well, usually he finishes with one hand plunged up into his rib cage, feeling it out from the inside, the other pressing sharp and hard at cartilage. But he's not one to tell Grillby what to do. "Everywhere feels.... so good, right now...."

G: Grillby hums and slowly returns to the spot by feel. His hand slides a little further, too, going back to the bumps and holes dotted along Sans' sacrum. And his other gently holds one of Sans' trembling femurs, the one that jostles just a bit more than the other.  
"Here, Sans?" He blows a hot breath over it, sounding like a pressured hsssss.

S: Like steam, almost, the wave of heat over sensitive bone and cartilage, where he aches to be touched. He scoots, trying to press Grillby's fingers further into his sacrum and all his sensitive spots. Trying to urge more contact, more more more more.  
"Yeah, oh, please. Just- a bit more there- "

G:: "There's no need for 'please'," Grillby chides very gently. His mouth doesn't move when he speaks, as it never has. Instead, he unfurls blue flame and finds the small spot of cartilage by taste and texture alone. The hot tongue curls tight all the way around as his mouth closes around it. Who needs a proper form when you can just.. envelope what you need without consequence?

S: Sans groans, low and rattly and shivery, rattling bones, trembling joints, "feels good " a plea between his teeth, and then he's unraveling, shaking all over. Better than he could ever do by himself, and he's dizzy and breathless and his teeth are chattering.

G:: Grillby was unaware Sans was that close, and he has to back off quickly to avoid overstimulating him. He slides gentle hands over Sans' hips and femurs, though, to soothe him through the aftershocks and calm down the trembling.

S: Sans throws his forearm over his face, breathless and embarrassed.  
"I didn't mean to- get off so suddenly, shit, I just- it was really _good_ ." He's shaky, still really just coming down. "It was - oh my god."

G: Grillby's humming and crackling. He isn't laughing at Sans, not at all, he's simply quite pleased to have done well. "I'm happy to help."

S: Sans reaches out with his other hand to pat at Grillby's face. He kinda knocks his glasses askew.... "You did. Really good. Even if I got off.... suddenly."

G: "I'm glad." Grillby readjusts his glasses and rubs a cheek against Sans' femur. He can lose a little form, now, and he's kind of tired from holding it for so long. "You're feeling better, then?"

S: "Yeah." God yeah. "For someone - entirely bones, kinda boneless."

G: Grillby crackles again and adjusts the both of them, so he's back on the couch and Sans' feet are in his lap. The fire in the hearth casts strange shadows over Sans' ribs and hip and the glint of his implant.  
"You could stay here tonight. If you don't mind sleeping on a couch."

S: Sans relaxes bit by bit into the couch, breathing out slow and easy.  
"It wouldn't be the first nor the last time I sleep on a couch." And Grillby is.... comforting. Warm. Comfortable.

G: "When must you go back to Hotland?" If it isn't too early, Grillby can make breakfast. They can talk, too, if Sans finally feels up to it.

S: "Around ten." The lab doesn't have early riser hours. They all work too long into the night for that. Sans already feels himself dozing, satiated and thus sleepy.

G:: Grillby pops and crackles and lets go of most of his from. He drops down close to his core and creeps up to nestle by Sans' hipbone.  
"I'll make you a good breakfast, then. Would you like that?"

S: "Yeah. God. You're so great." Sans yawns. Grillby is little more than a small core of warmth for Sans to curl around, bask in as he dozes. "S' the best."

G:: Grillby makes Sans a big breakfast in the morning before letting him run off. They never get around to talking, Grillby honestly didn't think they would. Though he had hoped.

* * *

 

The lab seems mostly abandoned by the time Sans makes it in. The coffee pot is on, but it's still full. Abandoned, seemingly, after that initial attempt. It's definitely too quiet for Bikeaby to be around.

S: "Hello?" Did the team just not make it in yet? Weird, Sans is usually the last to arrive.... He did wake a little earlier than usual with Grillby waking him up, but.... "Anyone here? Jawbone? Doc?"

G:: It takes a minute, but Kenny eventually pokes their head into the lounge and holds a finger against their mouth.  
" _Ssshh,_ not so loud. The doctor is still asleep."

S: Ah. Sans shuffles toward Kenny, glancing around.  
"Everyone else go home? What're you doin here?" He guesses if Gaster is still asleep, the lab's not really open yet, but. Hm.

G:: "I always get here first." They grab a chair from around the table and carefully drag it over to the coffeepot, making as little noise as possible. "But I texted everyone to tell them not to come in just yet. Did you not get the one I sent?"

S: Sans drags his phone out of his pocket. Wow, it's dead....  
"Didn't charge my phone last night." Sans knows Kenny prefers to do things themself, so he lets them get their own coffee. "My bad. I guess I could go back home for a while, but..." Who knows when the doc might wake up? That's a lot of work.

G: Kenny shakes their head before climbing up onto the counter. It's easier this way.  
"It's late enough already, the doctor hates waking up past eight. Here." They add just half a sugar and scoot the mug a little closer to Sans. "Take this to him, he might not be so cranky if it's you."

S: Sans takes it, sheepish. Kenny probably should get to deliver this, all things considered, but. Well, he can do it. "Kay. Hey, fix me one for when I come back, will you? Make it like... mostly milk." He treks carefully and quietly up the stairs to Gaster's loft. Taps on the door before he creaks it open gently, shuffling inside. "Doc? G'morning. It's- uh. Ten thirty."

G:: There is usually some kind of light in the underground, especially in places like Hotland, but it's stiflingly pitch black in Gaster's quarters. It's more like a void than a room, topped off with an unhappy groaning and shuffling.

S: Sans is especially careful shuffling in- is there a lamp anywhere? How is it so dark? He reaches out with one hand, the other holding the coffee secure, as he tiptoes in. "Doc...?"

G:: " What are you doing in here?"

S: Sans flinches. "Kenny sent me with coffee to get you up." Might as well throw them under the bus, too.... "It's ten thirty."

G:: There's a long, drawn-out groan from somewhere in the room. With a flicker of magic the door closes behind Sans, "too bright". Something crackles, no doubt knuckles or vertebrae, and an extra set of hands finds Sans in the dark by bumping clumsily into him. "Why is it so late? "

S: Uff. Sans flinches again and tries not to spill coffee on himself when the hands smack into him.  
"Dunno. I just came in. Kenny wanted to let you sleep a while, I think." Sans is having a hard time getting his bearings. How close or far away is he to Gaster, his bed, or his furniture?

G:: "Hnn, coffee." It takes a second to find it, but the hands relieve Sans of the mug. "I am firing Kenny. No, no, that's stupid.. They are the only one who gets things done around here.." There's more groaning and shuffling, but eventually a light clicks on. It doesn't cast much light, and it's purple, but it's at least enough to see by. The bone-white of Gaster's skull and ribs and hands are nearly glowing under it.

S: Shit, he's shirtless. Sans quickly averts his eyes, shuffling towards a silhouette that he thinks is a chair. The lamplight helps him not bust his ass, anyways. What kind of light is that?  
"No one else has made it in, either, so- you know. We'll all just stay a little later tonight since we got the extra sleep." Except for Sans. Sans was busy getting laid and then waking up early for breakfast. But so be it.

G:: "The last soul is sequenced. We can begin the process of-" He pauses to take a sip of coffee and hum against the mug. Kenny must have made it, it's perfect. "Of trying to replicate this stuff that the humans have. I would also like to get another session in with you this afternoon, seeing as our end goal- or at least one of our end goals- is in si- What are you doing?" Why is he just staring at furniture?

S: "Uhm." Sans laughs, sheepish, stupid. "Sorry, I- was. You're still- I thought you might want to be afforded some modesty, since I just. Burst up in here while you were asleep." Jesus, can he go one day without being a thirsty little mess? A quick subject change is in order. "We're getting incredibly close. And I still haven't managed to use the blaster, so I'd like- to train more with it."

G:: Gaster grunts and finishes his coffee in one long, drawn-out guzzle before settling it on a nearby table. There are three more coffee cups already there..  
"Then we are going to have to get more consistent. For now, we are just fitting training into the time we can find, but we need to start making time for it." Not in a literal sense. They haven't gotten that far in their research just yet.

S: Sans should probably get those and wash them.... not that his work station doesn't look almost exactly the same.  
"A solid schedule. Yeah, I've been- inconsistent with it." His training with Papyrus has mostly fizzled down to 'farting around trying to make up cool combos', too, now that he thinks about it. But, well. Papyrus is having fun with that. "We can try and meet at the same time. Consistently."

G:: "What day is it? Tuesday? No, that can't be right.." Gaster grumbles to himself for a minute or two, his fingers tapping on his chin. "Thursdays. Thursdays and... Saturdays, we can use the whole day."

S: "Saturday I -" He hesitates a second. "Saturday I usually train with Papyrus. Not.... uh. I mean, I guess I can do it, I need to.... get the blaster going."

G:: "You've been practicing, then? Good, then you should have become more familiar with it by now." Gaster stretches one last time, his spine crackling as he groans. It's far past the time he usually makes it to the lab, and he feels. Disgusting for it. The light makes him glint as he finally gets around to leaving bed. "Become good enough with the blaster, and you will no longer need traditional magic."

S: Sans peeks up, looks away again before he can get too caught staring at the shimmer of white bone in the strange light.  
"You use both traditional magic and the blasters." But he won't keep arguing.... "I'll tell Papyrus. I'll make it on Saturday."

G:: Gaster flaps a hand at Sans, his wrist popping loudly.  
"I use magic for showmanship and help around the lab, I have explained battling humans before." He has so much black, it's hard to see in this light... He grabs something and trusts that his wardrobe is consistent enough that it'll do.

S: "Yeah, no, you're right." He knows Papyrus will forgive him for cutting out on the lessons, that's the worst part. Papyrus is always forgiving him.... He shifts in the chair, awkward. "I should maybe leave you to get dressed." Instead of awkwardly hovering catching the curve of his lumbar spine, so bright white.

G:: "There's hardly a point now, is there?" Gaster shrugs on a long cloak and buttons it closed at his chest.

S: No, Sans guesses not. He dawdled too long... "You were going to run the last soul last night, weren't you? Did you get it on your own?"

G:: Nn. Gaster goes still. It isn't for very long, and he gets back to what he was doing without much of a hitch, but he does go still.  
"Yes. It is done. They are all sequenced and ready for synthesization. Or, at least, attempted synthesization."

S: Something about it makes Sans shiver, just a little. Right over the top three vertebrae, small and shallow.  
He doesn't know what it is. He shakes it off. "We've really- come pretty far, huh?"

G:: "Yes, finally. Finally. So it is incredibly important that we are prepared to meet the end goal." Gaster checks himself in a mirror. He looks... well, mostly like he isn't there. He'd change the lightbulbs if fluorescent wasn't an awful, horrible thing to wake up to.

S: "Yeah." Sans still doesn't know how he feels about that end goal.... But. Well. The king is all for the destruction of humanity, isn't he? So are most of the monsters. Sans would probably just be considered a coward if he backed out on that.  
Gaster looks like he's swallowed up in shadow, a glowing skull floating above the darkness. Sans supposes he's about the same. "I'm heading down to the lab. The others aren't in yet, but we can get ahead to work."

G:: "I'm coming, I'm coming." Gaster huffs it as if Sans was actually rushing him, though it's obvious he wasn't. He strides over, takes one of Sans' forearms, and folds them both down to the elevator doors in the lab. "Thank you for waking me, I suppose. There is no telling how long I would have been up there."

S: "It was Kenny's idea." Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets, before remembering he needs to push the elevator button and taking his hand back out to do so. "They made the coffee, too. I was just the delivery boy."

G:: "Mm." Gaster closes his eyes and sways on his feet a little as they ride down. He should have just taken them directly to the lab, but. No one is supposed to know about the teleportation, save for the two of them. He pops back halfway down, shifting a look over at Sans.  
"Are you alright?"

S: Sans glances back up at Gaster, rocking back and forth on his heels for a moment. "Uh. Yeah? Why, is there something that seems not okay about me?"

G:: "You seemed out of it yesterday. And the day before, as well. I have not yet determined your state today."

S: Ah. Maybe he was. Sans gives Gaster a big grin. "I've been.... slogging through death statistics. For my thesis. It's sort of been heavy. I talked to a friend last night, so I'll probably be a little better today." Or he'll make a more conscious effort.

G:: Sans has such a wide grin. God, his mouth takes up most of his face, doesn't it? Why has Gaster never noticed before? He looks back to the metal elevator doors before them after a great deal of effort.  
"I will need everyone working on synthesizing today. Take a short break from your thesis, if it is affecting you so."

S: Yeah. That's probably best. Sans looks back at the doors. They're not shiny enough for perfect reflections, but he can see the silhouettes of himself and Gaster caught in the metal surface.  
"I'll be glad to help."

G:: There isn't long until they reach the basement level, so Gaster quickly gives Sans' shoulder a squeeze. Out of... solidarity. Understanding? They're basically synonyms anyway.  
"I am glad to have you."

Kenny startles a little when they get to the lab, but they recover fast enough to start rattling of progress before Gaster even asks. "I'm currently working on the first soul and pulling out specific bits of data. Now that we've found what we're looking for in all of them, we can start figuring out exactly what it is."  
"Yes, that is what I said we would be doing."  
"Right.. Yes. Um, so I've started on that."

S: "I can start isolating in the second, if we wanna each take one... it'll go faster that way, won't it?" Sans sits down and starts shoving things aside to clear his workspace. "Might as well keep up the lightning speed we've got going."

G:: "Sounds like initiative. Kenny, contact the others and tell them if they aren't here in thirty minutes, they are fired." Gaster settles in. If Kenny is handling the first soul, Sans the second, then the third seems the obvious progression for him. Strange how those things work out.  
"Uhm. On it, doctor Gaster." They decide not to bring up the fact that he can't technically fire them.

S: Jawbone arrives first slightly breathless, sand clinging to him from.... burrowing. Or whatever it is he does. Not that he worried for his job, but it's easier to have Gaster not miserable with them. He nods at Sans, already getting to his workstation.

G:: Bikeaby is a full forty-five minutes after that, smoke still clinging to him.  
" Sorry, everybody, my bad! " He's loud and obnoxious today, snickering under his breath.  
"Just get to it, Bikeaby.." Kenny's head is down low over a microscope, sifting through proteins.  
"Didn't know the knitting circle couldn't start without me, I'm touched."

S: "Cool, just what we needed, one asshole to make everything harder." Jawbone is clearly not having this today.  
Sans attempts to make peace. "We're figuring out what this quality is, sifting through proteins and elements. We've each got a soul, so you get the last one. Dark blue. S'set up over there for you."

G:: Bikeaby blows a raspberry and plops down at his station. "Orange is a better color, toss me that one."  
Kenny actually rolls their eyes. "Oh my god, Bikeaby, shut up and do your shit."

S: "Orange is in use." Jawbone isn't about to argue this. "If you're going to be a pain, we'll exile you to the nasty pit to fix up the steam pipes, and we'll do this work."  
"Let's, uh. Let's put on the radio." Sans is really, really trying to avoid fights breaking out.

G:: "If you would like to be useless for an extra twenty seconds, find a record to put on." Gaster hasn't looked up once, and he still doesn't.  
Bikeaby does wander off to do as he's told, even if he grumbles under his breath the whole time. It takes what seems like far too long before he comes back with a record player and a whole stack. "I couldn't decide.."  
"Shirley Horn."  
"O.. Kay." The player goes in an empty spot on a side table, and it isn't much later before quiet jazz is filling up the space instead of Bikeaby's odd defiance. He gets to work without much else to say.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a time for big conversations. Meanwhile, the blaster training starts piecing together.

S: The records are all slightly warped, and there's an odd dreamlike quality to the sound because of it. Sans finds it's actually not as bothersome as he'd have thought, between the crackle and the waver. It quiets down the lab, at least. Sans doesn't particularly know what's up with Bikeaby today- not that he isn't always kind of a pain, but this is more. Rebellious. It's quiet, mind-numbing work, so Sans has a lot of time to think on it.

G:: Eventually the record thumps dully around its middle, needing to be turned. The strange, rhythmic silence stretches for a solid twenty seconds until Bikeaby starts acting up again.  
"Hey, doc, how come you never share any hero stories?"  
Gaster huffs and takes another note off to the side. "I do not know what you mean."  
"You know, tales of how you so bravely faced all these humans and saved monsterkind from its doom."  
"Because that is ridiculous and ultimately unimportant."

S: "You really think the doc is the type to brag?" Jawbone keeps glancing at the record player waiting for someone to change it. The crackly static is bothering him.  
Sans volunteers, shuffling over to flip it to the next side. The music starts up again, low and steady.

G:: "Says the guy who's gotten to see it."  
Kenny groans and massages their temple. The light from the microscope is getting to them, and it's barely past lunchtime. "What's your deal today, B?"  
"What'dya mean, what's my deal? I'm just talking."  
"You're _irritating._ "

S: "You're fucking irritating." Jawbone is always worn thin as is. Sans doesn't know if the limited patience he has is going to last another minute of this.  
"C'mon, B. There's- what's this about?" Sans tries to sound soothing, if possible. He thinks he might mostly come off as a little anxious. There's really no need for this...

G:: "What are you talking about, what is this about, was talking banned in the lab?" Bikeaby's ears are lying flat.  
"We're this close to figuring all this out, can you just shut up and work for once?"  
"I've been working non-stop in weirdass awkward silence for the better part of the week to get us to this point, you're welcome. "

S: "You maybe did as much work as the rest of us do for once in your life, sorry. Were we supposed to suck your dick over it?"  
"JB- don't."  
" _You_ don't, Sans, why don't you go climb in his fucking lap if you want to keep on taking his side."  
"I'm not- there's not _sides_ ." Why is this happening? "We're just high strung right now."

"Because some of us are fucking cowards who don't _want_ to get to the surface!"  
It would be aptly timed if the record were to scratch, wouldn't it? It doesn't, though. Just crackles along merrily.

G:: " You know what, I don't have to-" A hand comes from nowhere, grabs a tight hold of Bikeaby's collar, and drags him out of his chair. It and three others usher him into Gaster's office, and the doctor isn't far behind. The door closes quietly; a slam may have actually been better.  
Shirley Horn fills in the fifteen minutes until it opens again. Bikeaby looks suitably complacent, his ears laid back flat and his head drooped defensively between his shoulders.

"Work will continue without interruption."  
Kenny only watches Bikeaby long enough to see him return to work before they get back to it, too. "Yes, doctor."

S: Sans could probably cut the tension in the air with a toy knife. When the record does- inevitably- scratch- he thinks all of them probably jump out of their skin. Well, except Sans. Sans doesn't have skin. He gets up and busies himself changing the record, picks something at random. It's more jazz, kind of mellow. They need it.

G:: It's nothing but that for a long time, until eventually Gaster demands progress reports from them all. Bikeaby is, of course, leagues behind the rest of them, but he at least begins plugging in similar patterns amongst all the souls without prompting.

They get back to work quickly afterwards, maybe a little bit lighter.

_Hey, dude. My place later tonight?_

S: Sans knows in he back of his head he should go home, but it kinda sits badly at the back of his skull. Bikeaby's not even wrong . Sans is....

Sans is kind of scared, too.

_yeah that's cool, i'll come by when we're done in the lab tonight._

G:: _You're the coolest one here, dude_

* * *

 

Gaster sends them all home with a huff, even though he's still slumped over a microscope himself and likely will be all night.

Bikeaby is the first to haul out, but he winds up hovering around the elevator for Sans while everyone else leaves.

S: Sans is the last one out after the obligatory check-in with Gaster. ( "I'll be in for my blaster session tomorrow after we finish in the lab, try to get some rest tonight?" ) Bikeaby's waiting on him, which he didn't expect. He doesn't find himself minding, though. Bikeaby looks like he needs the company home.  
"Lead the way."

G:: "Yeah, cool. You been to the Capitol before, right?"  
They have to wait on the riverperson to come back around, and Bikeaby doesn't seem inclined to talk while they wait. His ears just flick in quiet irritation until the boat comes along. He tips pretty well, though.

S: Sans keeps his hands shoved in his pockets, rocking on his heels. His spine still feels crawly...  
"So, uh, where in the capital are we going?"

G:: "Just to my place. I don't.. know why I asked that, honestly, you've been to my place before." They get off, and Bikeaby pays the fee for both of them to ride the monorail. It's pretty late for the rail, but there are still a lot of monsters on. It seems like it gets fuller every day.

S: Sans shrugs loosely. The monster next to him's hair rustles and a face peeps out at him. Sans smiles warily at them.  
"I've really only been a few places. The market, your place." And he's never really ridden the monorail... He cheated last time. "Hey... you okay?"

G:: Bikeaby is quiet and swallows a couple times. He gets a strange and worried look from one of the other passengers but turns away from it.  
"We can wait for that, you know?"

S: "Yeah. Sorry." That's why Sans is coming back with him, right? He scoots a little closer to Bikeaby, shoulder to his side. The monorail's crowded enough to justify it, anyways. He stays more or less quiet the rest of the way, but he sticks close.

G:: There's another monster in Bikeaby's living room when they get there, watching some human movie on television.  
"Hey, man. This is Sans, we work together. We're gonna. Not be in here, kay?"

"Sure, B, just open up a window."

"Yeah, okay." Bikeaby's room is surprisingly clean for the kind of person he is. It's still a little messy, of course, but it's more of an organized mess than chaos. The floor is clear, at least, and he plops down on the carpet to pull his weed stuff out from under his bed.

S: Sans kind of expected Bikeaby's room to look more like his.... He sits cross-legged on the floor, hands folded loosely in his lap. He watches Bikeaby pull out the shoebox. There's so much familiarity and comfort around his room...  
"How long've you lived in your place?"

G:: "Moved outta my mom's place... five years ago. But I've only been here 'bout a year and a half." He pulls out a little bong and a bottle of purified water to fill it. "S'hard to find a decent roommate."

S: "Your roommate now cool?" Sans has never tried to live with anyone who isn't Papyrus..... He can't imagine. He knows he'd probably be shit at it... Papyrus already cleans up after him a lot. And takes a lot of care of him....

G:: Bikeaby nods and packs his bowl full of bud. He gets it started with a couple of puffs and hands it to Sans before crawling over to crack open his window.  
"They're alright. Let me get away with doing this shit all the time."

S: Sans watches how Bikeaby uses the bong and tries to replicate it. The first hit is harsher than he expected and he coughs a little. Honestly he's.... not sure why? He doesn't have a diaphragm... or lungs.... Second hit is easier when he thinks about it like that. Fogs up his skull, spills out through his eyes.  
"I guess I didn't really think about it, but it would bother some monsters huh?"

G:: "For some reason. They probably need to get high."

S: Sans laughs and hands the bong back to Bikeaby when he crawls back over.  
"I think everyone could probably stand to every now and then."

G:: Bikeaby takes it, but he boredly flicks his lighter a few times before actually taking a hit. He's got a whole lot of lung, so it's a while before he breathes out the cloud. He takes a sip from what's left in the bottle of water.  
"I think we all need to get a little high."

S: "Yeah." Sans.... kind of finds  a lot of things to distract himself from problems. Drinking.... Grillby. Smoking, apparently. He picks at a fiber in Bikeaby's carpet, idle and fidgety. "Thanks, uh. Thanks for inviting me over."

G:: "You looked like you needed it, too. So." Bikeaby sits the bong out between them, in case Sans wants another hit, and crawls up into a bean bag chair. He kicks his shoes off and squashes down in it until he can comfortably stare at the ceiling.

S: "Yeah. Probably." Sans takes another hit, feels the fog creeping around his skull. He knows he's probably a lightweight with this... No idea of his limitations. He's not really all that experienced with drinking either, though.... "So. Now I can ask. You okay?"

G:: Bikeaby waits a few minutes before shrugging.  
"I'm working. S'what matters."

S: "Don't gimme that." Sans feels drowsy and slow and dreamy, slowly fogging like a bathroom mirror... "What....happened, today?"

G:: "Tryna' be a distraction. It's part of my job." And he's usually pretty good at it. He was doing well until Gaster decided to pull him aside. "Worked like a charm, heh.."

S: Something kinda bothers Sans.  
"King's kinda underhanded, isn't he? This cloak and dagger distraction shit. He always sets everything two steps back. Why even give us the work? Why not admit he doesn't want it done?"

G:: Bikeaby's ears lay down flat again. He's still pretty sensitive from earlier, honestly, getting high doesn't really seem to be helping.  
"No king this time.. S'just me, don't go throwing ol' fluffybuns into it."

S: Sans notices his posture and scoots until he can lay back against Bikeaby's legs. He's not....particularly comfortable...  
"You wanna. Slow this down." Delaying making time. It's kind of too big a concept to wrap his skull around with this fog creeping in.... complex. Shit. He's high. "....I don't blame you."

G:: He exhales a big gust of air and half-laughs.  
"Here I thought I was the only one."

S: Sans shakes his head a little, flops back so he's leaning back on Bikeaby's lap. The worst part is he can't talk about any of it. The blaster is secret. The training is secret. Wiping out humanity is secret. "I wish he. I wish he was like JB says he used to be."

G:: "Yeah, well.. I don't know how he used to be." Bikeaby drops a hand down to Sans' skull and tries scritching at it, even though skeletons don't have fur. It seems like it's more for his own benefit than for Sans'.

S: Sans doesn't mind too much, even though his skull isn't ideal for petting. Bikeaby purred last time. Sans can't purr, so he just laughs. Very quietly.  
"Me either. I don't know. I - I'm sorry."

G:: Bikeaby spreads his legs out so they're on either side of Sans instead of directly in his back and winds up nearly horizontal in the beanbag.  
"Isn't your fault, you don't have to apologize for nothin."

S: "I know I - you know. Make goo goo eyes at him. But he also scares me. It's weird. And he treats everyone like crap." Sans yawns. Maybe he could take another hit....

G:: Bikeaby grumbles, and his ears lay back flat remembering the chewing-out he got earlier.  
"I don't think I'm wrong, you know. To be scared.. Is no one else? Or's he just got them wrapped around his fingers.."

S: "I'm scared." Sans decides he can at least talk about some of it. "You know killing a human changes a monster? Like... that's why the Doc is like that." Well, his hypothesis still needs to be fully expanded upon, but. "I don't want monsters to die. But I don't want to kill anyone."

G:: Bikeaby's quiet for several minutes. Processing maybe. Eventually, he gets around to rubbing at his face/unface with his hands.  
"Least it wasn't the king." It doesn't even surprise him, honestly.

S: Sans shifts so he's more comfortable leaning in Bikeaby's lap. He's always impressed by how warm other monsters are.... Sans just wants to leech body heat all the time.  
"It's a mess."

G:: "And we're about to make it even more of one, and no one wants to even consider that except for me." He snorts. "Figures."

S: Sans laughs and turns so he can bury his face in Bikeaby's stomach. Oh man.... so soft.....he's so soft, holy shit.  
"I'm too much of a coward to stand up against it. You're at least- I mean. You're cool, B."

G:: "No I'm fucking not." His toes dig into the carpet and his arms flop out to his sides. He wants to take another hit, but he's too sad.  
"I'm just a coward, too, didn't you hear."

S: Would it be weird to lift his shirt because his belly is fuzzy? Sans is high so he does it anyways. Heck yes..... Hell yeah, even.  
"Well. That's OK."

G:: "Yeah.. I know." It doesn't sound like he knew. It sounds like he needed reassurance about it.

S: "Shit is scary." Sans is scared. And he's going along with it anyways, because he wants Gaster to be proud, and it's supposed to help people, and it's supposed to be the right thing. And he just gets drunk or sleeps with Grillby or gets high with Bikeaby instead of doing anything about it.

G:: " _I just_.. " Bikeaby huffs and rubs at his face again, groaning. "You can't.. Why aren't we taking any time, you know? To talk about this shit we're doing? Some implications being made? Fuck it, I don't.. UUUGH."

S: "I don't know." And he's not really trying, is he? "I don't know. Doc doesn't - I don't think he can are about it. I think he's too...." Sacrifices have to be made. "Too different."

G:: "But _we_ aren't!" Bikeaby really needs another hit. "So what, just because that asshole is fine with wiping out existence, we have to be too??"

S: "But it's supposed to help monster kind." Like Sans even knows what's best for them anymore.... like Sans knows anything anymore. He just wants. He wants to work in the lab with Gaster and the others, with them all at peace and at ease. He wants to walk around Snowdin with his hand in Gaster's, talking softly. He wants to go home to Papyrus and watch stupid movies and listen to Papyrus talk. He wants things to stay like they are. Were. Forever. "I suck at this."

G:: "What about our monsterkind?" Bikeaby seems to be calming back down and mellowing out again. He goes pretty limp. "What about all the monsters here?" He struggles with himself for a long time, trying to put his question together in a way that makes sense. "Is it murder to make people never be born?"

S: Sans has avoided thinking about it for so long. Every time he does his skull aches. He doesn't know anything about how he came to exist, how Papyrus came to exist. Surely. Surely his brother would still happen even if they changed history, right? But then. Everyone. Grillby's, and the lab, and his school, and his favorite parts of Snowdin, and....  
"What if we don't go all the way back? There's gotta be a way to.... to not reset everything. "

G:: Bikeaby snorts again and finally seems to realize Sans' face is in his stomach. He folds his shirt back down over Sans' skull. "You think he cares enough to not do it right the first time?"

S: It's like he's in a fuzzy cocoon. Sans blinks away the dark, not that there's anything to see inside Bikeaby's shirt. "Maybe he could be convinced to....shit, I don't know. I'm just a dumb kid and this feels like so much."

G:: "So we go back.. Shit, we, who even says that'll happen?" No, Bikeaby especially doesn't like thinking about that. "So we'll go back, and everyone'll be gone." Shit. "My sisters.. Gran. That kid who always used to hang around our place that I hated."

S: "My brother." Sans pulls Bikeaby's shirt closer around him. "Grillby. The bunnies that run the Snowed Inn and the shop."

G:: Bikeaby has to take several really deep breaths to calm down a little, and they leave him feeling light-headed.  
"The surface probably sucks, anyway."

S: "My bro wants to be up there so bad." But isn't that what everyone is told to want? Everyone talks about how great the surface is. "I keep thinking about if he got to grow up up there. Where his school wouldn't be overcrowded and there would be sun and. I don't know."

G:: Bikeaby thinks about it for a while because he's thought so hard about it before. It still just makes his head hurt.  
"You wouldn't miss it," he finally asks in a very small voice, "Even a little?"

S: Would Sans miss the overcrowding, the dark, the damp, the cold? No. But....  
"I love Snowdin. I love Grillby's, and my house. And the woods. I'd miss it. But.... every monster for generations has prayed for this, right?"

G:: "Not every monster." Bikeaby sounds dejected.

S: "No. Not everyone." Sans peeks up through Bikeaby's shirt collar at his face. Lack of face. "I wish the underground was just.... bigger."

G:: "Yeah. Yeah, that would work." Even though Bikeaby doesn't sound anything close to convinced, he still gives Sans a thumbs up.

S: "We'll make a really big drill." What if Sans poked his head out through the collar of Bikeaby's shirt? They'd be like a two-headed monster. "We'll drill all the way through. Slowly expand the underground until we- until we're all throughout the world."

G:: Bikeaby huffs and nods.  
"Yeah. We'll do that, instead. Who needs the surface?" Sans is being fuckin' weird, but Bikeaby can't find it in himself to give a shit.

S: He's way higher than anticipated, he realizes. He's also like, halfway wearing Bikeaby's shirt with him. This was ill-thought out....  
"We can just.... slowly cover the whole- of the underground. The whole earth. Fuck the sun."

G:: "Man, the fuck? You're stretching out my favorite sweater.."

S: "Yeah, shit, sorry." Sans scoots out of it. "You're really warm and I'm not." It seemed logical at the time.

G:: Bikeaby takes the opportunity to stretch out on the floor on his belly and drag his bong close. He takes another hit, lays his face against the carpet, and exhales to it seeps out on either side. "Not that I'm opposed to cuddles, that was just weirdly excessive."

S: "I think I'm way higher than I intended to be." It doesn't stop Sans from picking up the bong after Bikeaby is done with it and taking another hit.

G:: Bikeaby snickers quietly, half-muffled by the floor. "I think you'da been cute. Just a little skell, toddling around like the rest of us."

S: "With a big huge head." Sans' head is already big... "Papyrus was so cute when he was smaller. Now he's- fuckin. Tall. So tall. He's gonna be as tall as Gaster. And I haven't grown since I showed up." He admittedly showed up essentially full-grown....

G:: "You think you guys are related?" Bikeaby's been wondering. "I mean you and the doc, not you and your brother. That's obvious..."

S: Sans cringes. He really, really hopes not.  
"There's no way. I mean, not every monster of the same type is related, right?" Else this is.... really, really weird.

G:: "Guess you couldn't be if you don't have parents.."

S: "He's been around a hundred something years or whatever and I've been around like.... five. Whatever spark of magic spawned him probably dissipated long before me. The dust that formed our bones probably never even met." Weirdly poetic....  "Plus I wouldn't want to bone him if we were related."

G:: "N.. Naturally." Bikeaby takes another quick hit and shuffles his bong off to the side. "Wait, okay, since we broached the topic."

S: "Fuck." Alright, fine, he can talk about it, he's high. And it's admittedly easier to talk about than the heavy shit earlier... "Hit me with your worst."

G:: Bikeaby actually crawls upright, but it's a strange process to watch. At one point, most of his weight is on his face..  
"Okay, so, you totally had sex with that bartender. So I'm just, like... How??"

S: Always with this question. Sans flops back against the bean bag and wiggles his toes, pensively staring at him.  
"I don't know if it's all that different from other monsters? I mean. There are places that I like being touched. He touched 'em. With- heat, pressure. And fire. And it was good, and I came, the end."

G:: "Okay, so like, you can get off? "

S: "I- yeah?" He assumes that's what it is?  
"Things get all tingly and then- a lot - and then I'm oversensitive and I wanna stop? That's getting off, right?"

G:: Bikeaby seems kind of distracted with that for a while.  
"Wow. That's just.... I mean, you know, I'm happy for you, dude. That's just awesome."

S: "Okay, I get that I'm kinda- not equipped with- presumably what other monsters have..." Sans knows his anatomy books, anyways. "But come on. Monsters come in a LOT of shapes. What's so weird about me being able to get off?" Admittedly.... Grillby can't. So maybe there are monsters who can't....

G:: "I mean, if I'm prying too much, you can tell me to fuck off." Bikeaby shrugs before crawling back under his bed again. He resurfaces with snacks. "You just don't have as much of a... fleshy form as most other monsters, you know?"

S: Holy shit snacks. Sans would celebrate except he's slowly melting into the beanbag because he's so comfortable. He's never moving again. Except to shove snacks into his face.  
"I mean I've read an anatomy book. I know fleshier monsters have like- dangly bits." What a weird thought. "I just guess I never thought they were necessary ? Like... we're all just magic and dust." He should.... fucking..... write a book titled that.

G:: Bikeaby snickers and pulls open a bag of cheese puffs.  
"Fuckin' dangly bits, oh my god... Wait, does your beau not have any dangly bits?"

S: "No." Actually, he doesn't have much of a physical form at all.... "He can't get off either. He just likes.. y'know. Getting people off." Which.... Sans still doesn't feel bad about. He wants to get cheese puffs but he wants to stay on the cushion.... He scoots the bean bag with him until he can reach into the bag and steal a handful. "He's kinda just.... fire."

G:: "That's hot."

S: Sans laughs way too hard through his mouthful of cheese puffs. He flops back onto the bean bag still laughing hard. Oh shit. That's hot. Because he's fire.

G:: Bikeaby snickers and pats against Sans' foot.  
"I'm glad for you, dude. Good job. Good job on the sex."

S: "Thanks?" How does one properly respond to being congratulated on sex?

G:: "I mean, not that we've been making bets or anything."

S: "You fucking have, haven't you? Man, come on." Surely he didn't seem that hopeless.....

G:: Bikeaby has to flap his hands excitedly to wave it off, but he's laughing a little.  
"No, really! We haven't, I promise."

S: "Come ooonnn." Bikeaby has to be patronizing him... "What about you? You getting laid all the time, or just making fun of me?"

G:: "No, I-uh." Bikeaby shrugs and curls up next to the beanbag on the floor. His toes flex and wiggle in his socks. "Have had a bit of a dry spell. The only people I even hang out with anymore are you guys at the lab."

S: Sans reaches out and grabs Bikeaby's toes out of sheer curiosity. But now what does he do with them? Squish. He squishes. Holy shit.  
"Yeah.... Grillby is the only one I talk to outside the lab...."

G::  Bikeaby stretches his toes out wide, and a claw pokes out between the stitches of his sock.  
"This job is killin' my social life."

S: Sans pokes one claw with the tip of his fingerbone. Holy shit. He spends the next few minutes squishing Bikeaby's toe and watching the claw retract and pop out. Oh man.....  
"Least you had one."

G:: "Ain't no reason you couldn't have had one, you big nerd."

S: "Yeah.... but it's a lot of work." And Sans pretty much just nonstop studied.... "I dunno how you ever did it. It's hard."

G:: "Yeah." Bikeaby flexes his toes around a couple of Sans' fingers. "You know, Sans, you're alright."

S: "Don't tell anyone, but you're probably the main person I'd hang out with even if we didn't work together." Sans wants toe beans.... he's jealous. He runs a thumb over the arch of Bikeaby's foot curiously.

G:: Bikeaby jerks his leg a little, hissing.  
"Dude, that tickles.." But he doesn't yank his foot away. "Would we even know each other if we didn't work together? Probably not.."

S: "Sorry." Sans returns to squishing toe beans. Bikeaby's feets are neat..... "I mean we might. I guess you were done with school way before me, though, huh?"

G:: "Not... really. How old do you think I am??"

S: "Uh. 28?" That seems like a good guess, right?

G:: "Oh.. Well, okay, that's not too bad off. Twenty-six."

S: "I think I'm like. 22." ...... "Technically I'm like 5."

G:: "You don't even have a specific number on your actual age?" Bikeaby shakes his head and dumps an entire bag of chips down his throat. "Jeeze, good job."

S: "Man, I don't know! I just popped up one day and decided to go to college. I could be about anywhere from 18 to like.... 30."

G:: "Or forty-five. Or seventy-two."

S: "I'm the coolest elderly man I've ever met."

G:: "And no one's ever gonna be able to tell how old you are." Uh, well... Bikeaby doesn't know that. "Probably."

S: "I'm sure there's a highly scientific test we can do." But he doesn't feel like caring about that right now. ....... "If you had to sleep with anyone in the lab, who would it be?" Apparently being high is an excuse for this being a teen girl slumber party.

G:: "If I had to?" He scoffs. "Is this a trick question? You. You're the only one there who doesn't hate my guts."

S: "Whaaat?" Sans is actually surprised. "I thought you'd say....iunno, Kenny or something." He's still processing the rest.

G:: Bikeaby snorts again and puffs the empty chip bag full of air. "You kidding? Kenny can barely stand me anymore."

S: "Anymore?" Sans squishes further down into the bean bag. "Did you used to be close? It seems like. Everyone maybe used to be closer."

G:: "I dunno.." Bikeaby slaps his palm against the inflated bag, and it pops in a shower of crumbs. "We all kind of used to have each others' backs, so the doc couldn't shove any of us around. Now?" He shrugs after a second. "I think we're all too scared of him.."

S: Sans knows, somewhere in there, he's kind of scared too.  
But then sometimes he thinks about the doc, tired and brittle and high, lit by the Core. The doc's hand in his. And he wants to save him so bad.

"It's a mess." It's all a mess. "We're all we've got, right? And sometimes I think you guys'll hate me too, every time he- every. I don't want to be.... favored." Well, yes he does, but not at the cost of everyone else.

G:: Oh, shit, is that what he's worried about? Bikeaby blows a raspberry and waves a hand between them.  
"Shit, dude, we don't blame you for that. It's not like you're playing suck-up or anything." Definitely not like Kenny used to.

S: "Yeah but. I mean, I know everyone knows I like him. But it doesn't mean it's - you know- about taking sides."

G:: "You want me to be honest, buddy?" Bikeaby drags himself around so he can lay his head in Sans' lap. "You're pretty much the only one who can stand up to him, anymore. G-man's always given us the shit end of his personality. If you've got the good side... Hell, just try to look out for us." Like he was doing earlier, when Bikeaby and Jawbone were nearly at each others' throats..

S: Sans starts petting Bikeaby, idly, easily. It's as relaxing for Sans as it probably is for Bikeaby.... even when he gets to flop on Papyrus, Pap isn't soft or cuddly....  
"I'll try. To look out for you guys." He kind of realizes he wants to protect everyone in the lab. Bikeaby, Kenny, Jawbone. Gaster, too. From Gaster.

G:: Bikeaby's quiet for a few minutes, his ears twitching idly whenever Sans pets close to them, and he eventually starts purring. It was a good idea to invite him over..  
"So you really think something has changed him? Something from the humans?"

S: "Even he thinks something from the humans has changed him." Sans really likes rubbing the tips of Bikeaby's ears between his thumb and forefinger.... "It's looking more and more like it with every bit of my thesis I knock out." Sans is quiet for a while, listening to Bikeaby purr. "It's.... i see, under there, the ghosts, you know? Someone who used to really feel things. Not just shadows."

G:: "Jawbone used to talk about him, when I first joined the team. How good of a monster he used to be. Kenny would even talk about what they heard from their grandparents sometimes." Bikeaby shrugs ands starts kneading at Sans' knee with a hand. "He was even good just the other day, remember?"

S: "I remember." Sans remembers every time Gaster has been good, kind. Every time he's seen him vulnerable. "I wish I knew how to undo it. Whatever it is killing those humans did."

G:: Bikeaby traces patterns into the carpet with one claw, his other hand still kneading at Sans.  
"Yeah. Me, too. Maybe you'll find something before he.. does something fucked up."

S: "Maybe I... hope." Sans pets behind Bikeaby's ears, little scritches. He lets himself fall quiet for a while, just petting and being kneaded at.

G:: "I don't wanna not exist." Bikeaby says it with a tired huff, like it isn't something profound and at least partially possible.

S: "I'll make sure you exist." Sans is just high enough to make promises. "I like you existing. You're cool. We're friends. Aren't we?"

G:: Bikeaby turns his head to look up at Sans. Even though he.. doesn't have eyes.  
"Yeah. You're my friend."

S: "Cool." So Sans should look out for his friends. And not let them be erased from existence. "I'll fix it. Everything. Somehow."

G:: He nods and goes back to snuggling tight.  
"I know you can, buddy."

S: It suddenly feels like so much, so overwhelmingly much. Like Sans has to save every monster in the underground- his friends, and Papyrus, and Gaster, and all those monsters with hopes and dreams, and - shit, he's kind of choked up. This is stupid. This is too much. He wanted to smoke to relax and forget about this but everyone needs him. "Can I sleep- here? With you?" It's too much to imagine going back to Snowdin and looking at it and thinking about it not existing.....

G:: "Yeah, dude, no problem. You wanna share the bed?" Bikeaby says it like he's pretty used to it. Growing up in a house with so many siblings makes things like beds a community object.

S: He guesses he could sleep on the beanbag.... But being warm and near someone sounds far preferable.  
"Yeah. Yeah, let's."

G:: "A'ight, but no heavy petting, you got it?" Bikeaby goes ahead and crawls under his covers, just a lump under the blanket. "Just regular petting."

S: "Don't worry, I'm not going to pop a _bone_ r on you in the middle of the night." Sans laughs at his own stupid joke and crawls in after Bikeaby, curling around him. God, it's so _warm_ . Sans wants body heat.... this is awesome. "You're the one I should worry about, you keep asking how I do the do."

G:: Bikeaby shrugs. "I'm curious and high, I don't have any filters left."

S: Sans yawns and stuffs his face between Bikeaby's shoulderblades.  
"It's not like you'll find anything if you stuff your hand down my pants, anyways." He's so comfortable.....

G:: "Jeeze, how can bones be so cold?" Bikeaby grumbles and fumbles around until he gets more comfortable. Sans is half on his arm and half in his armpit.. But he can adjust if he doesn't like it.

S: "I don't make body heat. Or have toe beans." Sans yawns. His face is kind of stuffed in Bikeaby's armpit... So be it. He pulls the comforter around them tighter like a little burrito. Hell yes. Helllll yyyesss.

G:: "Shame. You'd make a great cat monster." Bikeaby sounds less high than he did before, but he's falling asleep at the same time.

S: "You think?" Sans is starting to doze, too.... He slings an arm over Bikeaby and contents himself with that. "G'night, B."

G:: "G'night, nerd."

S: "You're a nerd." But Sans is pretty much asleep after that.

* * *

 

G: Synthesization is a long, drawn-out process. It's a heavy day. Not long, Gaster actually dismisses them earlier than usual, but everyone is tired and high-strung at the end of it.

That's alright. It suits his purposes just fine.

"Try again, Sans. Aim for the target and simply.. let it go."

S: "I'm trying." Sans doesn't mean to sound like he does, and he backpedals quickly. "I don't know how to pull it, Doc, it's not- there." He's tired, weary, and no matter how he tries, he can't seem to pull up the blaster.

G:: If the dummy had any sentience, it would probably be bored by now.. Gaster isn't, but irritation is starting to creep up his spine. It's terribly easy for him. And didn't he grab a handhold of it quickly? This is not rocket science.  
Humans can pull the trigger so easily.  
"This is not that difficult, Sans."

S: "It's just not- I don't know." Sans feels himself shrinking under Gaster's looming irritation. He knows he should be able to summon the blaster by now. He knows Gaster has no trouble. He can feel the implant at his spine, the desire to pull it, the difference between magic and whatever sits in there . He wants to impress Gaster.

He just....

Can't.  
"It's there, I just can't- reach it."

G:: "Then try- " No. No, there's no point in raising his voice. Gaster closes his eyes and rubs at a temple. He's been staring through a microscope all day, as has Sans, and he feels a headache trying to take hold. "Forgive me, I cannot expect you to suddenly master something so unfamiliar. Let us.. try something different."

S: Sans presses the heel of his hand to one eye socket where a headache is starting to form. Yeah. Okay. Okay, he can do something different. The blaster just.... won't. Come.  
"Okay. Let's, uhm. Let's do something different. You name it, I'm on it."

G:: "Come, sit with me." Gaster crosses his legs and sits on a large toadstool. It lights up beneath him. "We will. Do a few exercises before continuing."

S: Sans rubs at his eye socket again, weary, before he shuffles over to sit next to Gaster. There's a soft blue light from the toadstools around them.  
"Uh, okay. What exercises?"

G:: Gaster inhales deeply and exhales slowly.  
"A few breathing exercises. A few magic exercises. Then we will try again."

S: Sans fidgets in his seat for a second. Breathing exercises, magic exercises. Okay, okay.  
"What breathing exercises?"

G:: "Just something calming. I think we could both afford to be a bit more calm." Gaster closes his eyes and breathes deeply again. It's meant to be followed as an example.

S: Calming. Sans watches Gaster's ribs expand and contract, and follows. Take it in, hold it. Count. Release. It takes a while, but the pinpoint irritation behind his eye socket seems to slacken. Headache easing, a bit.  
"Sorry about this."

G:: Gaster shakes his head and takes another deep breath.  
"We are not speaking. We are simply breathing for now."

S: No speaking. Sans shifts again, stares down at his slippers. Take in, hold, count. Release. He fills his ribs and lets them go. Quiet is kind of thrumming in his head.

G:: Gaster keeps it up for a few minutes before opening his eyes again. Sans looks as if he's calmed down a lot.  
"Keep your eyes closed. I will talk you through." His voice is quiet and very even. "You've stairs in your house, don't you? Warm carpet, central heating. It is a cozy little home."

S: "S'very warm." Sans remembers it. Thinks about his couch. The TV he just got finished making payments on.... "For such a cold town."

G:: "Humble, relaxing. You can feel it now, can't you?"

S: Sans walks himself through it in his head. Sits himself on his couch, gets comfortable. It's pretty easy to visualize.  
"Yeah. It's nice."

G:: "You know every inch of it, hm? Could navigate around that little house with your eyes closed."

S: "Yeah. Kinda- do sometimes." At least after a long night, when he's exhausted and doesn't feel like turning on the lights or waking Papyrus. He keeps visualizing, walking through the kitchen, up the stairs.

G:: "Stand. Keep your eyes closed, Sans." Gaster stands up, too, and dusts off his lab coat.

S: Why? Well, this is a magic exercise, so. Sans won't ask questions. He rises on unsteady feet, eyes still closed, still trying to see his home in perfect detail.

G:: "You can make it, can't you? Or perhaps an approximation of it. Try that, now, right here." Gaster steps up behind him, a hand falling on Sans' shoulder.

S: His house? The whole thing? That's a great deal of magic.... Still, Sans concentrates. His entryway, the snow on his step. The inside, the front door, the floorboards in the living room... He tries not to get stuck in the little details, sketching the big shapes of his house in broader strokes.

G:: Gaster watches the bones pop up around them, sketching out walls and stairs, even doors and the table in their living room. Impressive. "This is good, this is all we need." The hand on Sans' shoulder moves to the top of his spine. "Very nice."

S: Sans cracks one eye open to peek at his work, peek up at Gaster. His hand sends little tremors through Sans' spine. It's a pale echo of home- pale in a literal sense, bone white and cyan. But he still feels more comfortable moving through it. He even sketched in his couch...

G:: "Ah-ah, none of that." Gaster taps a knuckle against the back of Sans' skull. "Just trust the magic and yourself, you know you can do it perfectly well."

S: "Right, right." No peeking. Sans shuts his eyes again, slippers shuffling on the ground as he steps through his conjured living room.  
"What are we doing here? At my house?" Or his echo of it.

G:: Gaster hums quietly and pushes gently towards the staircase. "We're going to your room." His voice drops down low, quiet, though he doesn't try for sultry. That would be a bit too much, wouldn't it? Gaster has no idea how to do sultry..

S: Oh. The shudder runs down Sans' spine, from where Gaster's hand sits right down to the small of his back. They're. Hm. He's sure there's some other reason, surely, but Sans can't think of one. "R-right." He treks up stairs, hearing them creak under his feet. (Only that's bones, not floorboards, isn't it? No, no, don't analyze that. Keep visualizing.)

G:: "You know each and every step, hm?? Every fault in the floorboards and loose nail? How many?"

S: "Twelve stairs. Third from the top creaks real bad." Talking about it helps him steady his head, concentrate. "Always skip it going up to my room late, so I don't wake Papyrus." He reaches out and holds onto the hand rail along the wall.

G:: "Count them for me."

S: Sans nods and counts quietly as he ascends them. "Five- six- seven- eight-"

G:: Gaster is bent low behind Sans, his teeth right at Sans' skull so he can speak low. He counts along, quietly, both hands on Sans' shoulders. "Five- six- seven- eight-"

S: Sans shudders, eyes shutting tighter. "Nine. The creaky one." Magic catches that detail, too, and he laughs, more breath than laugh. "Ten. Eleven. Twelve." Upstairs on the landing, now. Weird painting on the wall. Papyrus's door, then about six footsteps to his.

G:: "Twelve." Gaster waits until Sans is halfway up the last step before acting. The hands on Sans' shoulders push him forward with the other shove hard at the magic that makes up the landing. The staircase collapses down just one step.

S: His foot should hit solid ground and it doesn't , the sick lurch and flip of trying to catch himself, missing space in the dark, the sudden and bright fear in his skull at something so unfamiliar. Gaster's shove leaves him reeling, struggling to catch himself, and sweat beads on his skull.  
"I-"

G:: Gaster's hands catch both of them just before they both fall down to the cave floor. The bone structures collapse around them, disrupted by Sans' break in concentration. "Very good, Sans, that was very good."

S: Sans is still shaky from it, has to get his bearings in space for a moment. He lets one eye open again, peeking at Gaster.  
"Was it?" His structure has all fallen away, and there's only them in the cave again.

G:: Gaster nods gently. "An interesting feeling, wasn't it? That sudden yank, deep down in you."

S: "Interesting." The suddenness and sharpness of the unfamiliar familiar. Sans swipes a hand over his browbone. "Yeah. Feels like the world shifts around you, when the familiar is suddenly.... not."

G:: "Then you get it now!" A touch if excitement has returned to Gaster's voice, and he's almost smiling. "That feeling, that lurch in your gut." He corrects himself with a shrug. "Lack of gut."

S: Oh. Sans can still feel the echo of it. Knee jerk fear, hollow ache in your gut. That's what it takes?  
"Ah. Then- maybe I can try again?"

G:: Gaster's grin spreads out wide.  
"Yes! Yes, try again!"

S: Sans closes his eyes. His fingers fan out.

_The lurch of a missed stair in the dark._

_Coming home, his house cold._

_Papyrus's room, dark and empty._

The darkness seems to thump around his fingers.

G:: Gaster claps his hands together, his fingertips at his teeth. His pupils spark white as he watches the blaster snap into existence and then fade just as quickly. It isn't a shot, not even close, but oh, it is progress.  
"Excellent. Incredible.. "

S: Sans sees mostly a flash of teeth, the dark pit of eye. Articular process, mandible. He's startled by how sharp it is, and in that brief bright shock it's gone .  
"Oh." He's a little shaky. Is it excitement? Fear?

"Oh, _man_."

G: "You know, up until this point I was not sure it could be done by someone other than me-" Gaster is talking fast, obviously pleased and excited-  
"Oh, Sans, do you know just how amazing this is? Ah, I really could have done it, if the king had allowed me, bolstered up the royal guard, build a proper army all with.." He claps a hand between Sans' shoulders with a solid ha! .

S: The cold dread and the eagerness to make him happy mix into something weird and cold, something with teeth. He's so goddamn eager and he wants to make him happy and Gaster is going to build a goddamn army. Monsters are going to die. Sans kind of can't breathe.

G:: "I can put in an acquisition order with this, after more tests. A stronger grasp on the blaster provides a stronger argument, though.. Ah, I will have to speak to the king directly when the time comes, maybe make a few charts.." Gaster is off in his own mind for a long while, but he comes back to squeeze at Sans' shoulders. " Oh, Sans, this is going to save us all. Thank you, thank you. "

S: Is he? Is he really? Sans feels the sick lurch and it's stronger than the missed step, the empty house.  
He's done a bad thing, hasn't he?

A terrible thing.  
"Doc. I...."

G:: "Incredible, incredible progress today. This calls for a bit of celebration, doesn't it?" Gaster claps his hands together again and finally manages to calm down with a deep breath. "I must apologize, this is just. Extraordinary. Really. Even just this much is more than I imagined."

S: "Doc, I don't know about." He's having a hard time with the sentence. It dies right behind his teeth, shrivels up to whispers. Monsters will die, we can't do this. I'm scared. I didn't want this.  
He's so happy , though. Happier than he's seen Gaster in weeks. Sans wants so bad for him to be that happy. Always. "I..."

G:: Gaster falls quiet, his hands folded together and pressed against a cheekbone. "Yes?" He has vaguely realized this entire time that Sans has been trying to speak, but his own thoughts were moving too fast. "There is no need to be shy, you know." His eyes are still shining, pleased.

S: _I'm scared. I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared-_  . "I. Really had a _blast_ today."

G: Gaster snorts, shaking his head.  
"Not quite yet, Sans, do not get ahead of yourself. Summoning the blaster is one thing, using it requires a bit more." Oh, but that sounds so rude, doesn't it? Gaster does not want to upset him. "I am. Pleased, Sans. And proud."

S: He's proud. It aches in his ribs and his skull. It's hollow and dry and Sans is still....  
"Could. Uh." He doesn't particularly know how to ask, so he reaches out and takes Gaster's hand in his.

G:: Gaster hums and allows it. His thumb swipes along the length of Sans' phalanges, squeezing gently.  
"We should get out of here, hm? I think the damp is getting into my cloak."

S: "Yeah." The soft click of bone on bone somehow dispels the thrumming in his skull. Sans keeps Gaster's hand and bends space around them to bring them back out to Waterfall. He wants to go home. He misses his house. But something would be tainted about it if he went now.

G:: They always wind up in Waterfall somehow, don't they? Well, it isn't like there's much scenery in Hotland, that's for sure.  
Gaster doesn't let go of Sans' hand yet, he seems like he needs it. The toadstools seem brighter than others here, so it isn't so hard to walk.  
"We are making a lot of progress. The work with the souls is going faster than I dared imagine."

S: "Almost overwhelming, isn't it?" There's weight on Sans' shoulders. Like the weight of every monster in the underground. It aches and he squeezes Gaster's hand. "I sort of never expected it to be....this close."

G: "We are definitely defying expectations, yes. Oh, Sans. " He goes dreamy for a moment, sighing. "I thought for such a long while I would never get to see it."

S: Sans doesn't know what to do. Talking about it fills him with this queasy dread right down to his marrow. Gaster is so happy. Nothing seems to fit together. Sans suddenly can't seem to breathe. He stops in his tracks, suddenly enough that Gaster could probably trip over him. It's part impulse part desperation when he throws his arms around Gaster, squeezing him tight, burying his face in the scratchy fabric of his cloak. Make it stop, all of it.

G:: He nearly does trip, surprised and offended, but with Sans half holding him up he manages to stay upright. At first, he's irritated. But it fades away in the wake of his good mood.  
Good lord, Sans is short.

"Though. I can understand how it could be overwhelming."

S: Sans nods, face still stuffed against fabric. There's not really any substance to Gaster under his clothes. He's bony. Angular. Sans still holds on.  
"Everything is going to change. Everything I ever knew."

G:: "For the better!" Gaster doesn't sound so much like he's trying to reassure Sans, more like he's adding on what Sans forgot. "A different past for monsterkind, so we may have a better future."

S: "What if some monsters are never born?" Sans is still kind of shaky, almost doesn't want to bring it up. He wants to stop thinking about this. Gaster's cloak is rough against his skull.

G:: Gaster huffs and hums low in his chest, like he's considering.  
"A complete and total change of circumstance between two possible futures, there are bound to be differences."

S: Sans' grip tightens.  
"But everyone we're doing this for - if we. If we erase them from ever having...."

G:: "This is not a project based upon individuals, Sans." His hands fall to Sans' shoulders, squeezing. "It never has been."

S: It hurts, deep in Sans' ribs, his spine. Everything.... everyone, he cares about.  
"If I was erased from - if things changed, and i didn't... ...." Sans feels vaguely panicky. "Would you miss me?"

G:: "Are you not coming with us?"

S: "But what if I was???" It's hysterical and hypothetical. "What if I stayed with my brother in... this time?"

G:: "Sans, I need you when we go back."

S: "But what if." He's bordering on hysterical. "No one will be there, Doc- not Papyrus- not Grillby-"

G:: Gaster sighs heavily and drapes his arms around Sans' neck. He isn't good at reassurance, and frankly it's a waste of time. This is ridiculous.  
"No, they will not. What do you expect to happen when we turn the clock back two thousand years?"

S: He knows, that's the worst part, he knows, and he knows it's somehow supposed to be better , but who will it be better for? Monsters who've grown up never aching like this, never praying like this, never hoping for a better future for their children, their siblings, their loved ones.  
"You don't know what missing someone would be like-"

G:: "No." Gaster is tired of this already. "I don't."

S: Sans suddenly feels small and weak and stupid and wishes he'd never done this. Not any of it. Most of all, not this. He shrinks away like Gaster is painful to touch. Maybe he can just... pretend he didn't. He finds he's caught in uncomfortable silence, unsure what to say to dismiss the emotions, the panic. He just feels tired now.

G:: Disappointment creeps up and down Gaster's spine, across his hard palate. It tastes dry and sour. He does try very, very hard to draw it back and calm it down, though he doesn't know if he succeeds.  
"Make no mistake about it, Sans, I do hold a fondness for you as well as for your brother. The two of you may, in fact, hold the key to my own origins. Something I care deeply about." Ah, he just wants to go back to the lab and return to synthesizing now. "But nothing is as important as this. We cannot allow sentimentality to doom us to the cards we have been dealt, not when changing our hand is so close.

I'm sorry."

S: Are most monsters faced with this kind of sacrifice in their lives? Sans has never felt so much weight. All of monsterkind, as it stands, and all of monsterkind, as it could be.  
Choosing one dooms the other, doesn't it? If he saves his brother- Grillby- Snowdin- everyone. If he saves them, none of those monsters in the other timeline will ever have a chance. None of them will ever be born. Monsterkind will grow too big for its home. There will be starvation, and death, and disease.  
Why is this much resting on so few shoulders? Just the five of them in the lab. That's it. There's all that, hanging on them.

"You're right. I'm sorry." It feels hollow but he says it anyways. "Philosophy isn't- I was never good at it. Not my strong suit. Got too caught in- tangible things." Those hypothetical monsters born on the surface don't mean shit to him. They don't laugh at his bad jokes, or burn the popcorn on movie nights with him, or make him drinks, or greet him every day like an old friend when he passes them in the street.  
"You can. You can count on me, Doc. To do the right thing."

G:: "I know I can." Except he doesn't know, not really, and he is aware of that now. Gaster grows wary of Sans in a way he did not expect he'd have to. It's strange how... unhappy that makes him. "You should get some rest. We have a lot more progress to make."

S: "Yeah." His skull aches. His everything aches. "We made a lot of progress with the blaster. This weekend, we can- make more. Thanks for. The lesson." Sans grins as though it'll make Gaster stop looking at him like that. "You get some rest, too, Doc."

G: Gaster's only response is a low grunt. He quickly phases back to the lab without another word, feeling... heavy and dissatisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Bikeaby bias shows heavily this chapter, but he's my favorite, so who can blame me?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tests are getting closer than ever. Sans' thesis seems at its most critical.

 

S: Sans takes himself home the quick way. Papyrus's light is still on, so he grabs his pillow from the floor of his room, crawls inside and curls up on the rug near his brother's bed. Everything feels awful.

G:: "Hey!" Papyrus at first sounds offended, but he gets really offended when Sans obviously ignores him.  
" _Hey!_ " He has to lean over the side of his bed to stop his tape player just when the narrator was getting to the good bits of the story. "Sans, you didn't knock! "

S: "Didn't I? Alright, well, knock knock." He's in a little bundle on the floor, hood pulled over his head. "Now say 'who's there'."

G:: "But I already know who's at the door! Knock knock jokes are dumb."

S: "Knock knock jokes are hilarious ." Sans scoots his feet under the edge of Papyrus's bed for whatever reason. "You can keep playing that tape, though. I'm gonna... sleep here."

G:: Papyrus huffs and tosses a stuffed animal down at his brother.  
"You have your own room! And your own bed! Why are you on my floor!"

S: Sans catches it and stuffs it in his hood with him. Cool.  
"Cause I wanna be, deal with it." He feels like crying. This is stupid. Everything is stupid. Sans is an idiot. "Pretend I'm not here and go about your business. I'll just be a lump, it's like I'm not even a monster."

G:: Another three toys tumble down on Sans and bounce off harmlessly.  
"You snore!"

S: Sans starts making a fort. "You talk in your sleep, we all have to make sacrifices." The phrase immediately upsets him so he steals another stuffed animal off the bed to add to the fort. "I haven't gotten to hang around you all week and I miss ya."

G:: "Hey, no!" Papyrus actually nearly falls out of bed going after that one, but he saves himself. He winds up leaning over the side of his race car, pouting. "Wait, that one's Miss Jimmy, don't take her. Give her back.."

S: "Miss Jimmy?" Sans pops his head out of his hood to look at the soft toy he just stole. "I don't even remember this one, where'd you get it?" It's a little ratty.... He hands it back anyways.

G:: Papyrus takes the toy and immediately tucks it to his chest, shrugging.  
"I don't know. I found her in the back of my closet one day." He should really get back to listening to his book, but. He's actually ahead of the rest of the class for once. "I thought she probably belonged to whoever lived here before and got left behind, so I adopted her."

S: "Oh." Sans wonders who actually did live in this house before them.... He doesn't know much about it. The house came up on the market before he and Papyrus came to Snowdin, and Sans got it with the help of some aid from the town and the King. Well, a royal decree. Not really the king personally.  
"That's pretty good of you, bro. Giving her a home and all that." What even kind of thing is she supposed to be? She could be a bear... or a monkey... or a mouse. She's in pretty bad shape.

G:: "Technically it was good of her to let us live in her home.." Since Miss Jimmy was here first.. "But she's very sensitive, so I make sure she's always on the bed with me."

S: Papyrus is such a good kid. It wells up in Sans so sharp that he suddenly can't breathe again. He starts gently setting stuffed animals back in Papyrus's racecar bed.  
"That's very good of you as a friend. Miss Jimmy's got herself a great roommate, huh?"

G:: "Hey, Sans?"

S: "Yeah, Pap?"

G:: "Why do you always sleep on my floor?"

S: He doesn't do it that often, does he?  
"Cause sometimes being around such a cool dude makes me feel better."

G:: "No, I mean." Papyrus shrugs. "Cars have passenger's seats."

S: Sans shifts in place, pulling his hoodie around him.  
"Iunno. You're a big kid now. I don't want to crowd you outta your bed. And you never invited me." Sans is very conscious of the fact that Papyrus increasingly wants his own space.

G:: Papyrus rolls his eyes, sighing.  
"It's just weird, you always falling asleep on my rug. Often without a pillow. Or blanket."

S: "It's pretty comfy." Sans has slept in weirder places. Like in the lab.... "It's easier than falling asleep in my room sometimes."

G:: "Alright, well. Whatever.." Papyrus shuffles down under his covers, staring at Sans on the floor.

S: "................ Could I swing into the passenger seat, though?" Sans is.... not doing super well tonight.

G:: The driver goes on the left, right? Papyrus scooches over close to the wall so the passenger's side is open.  
"But you have to turn off the lamp."

S: Sans crawls up, stuffing his face into the pillows. He used to share the big bed in Snowed Inn's room with Papyrus when they were both new. Papyrus was so small, then, and he always squirmed and kicked Sans in the ribs. Hopefully he's a little less... wiggly, now. No matter, even if he is. Sans reaches over and switches off the lamp.  
"Thanks, Pap."

G:: "Just try really, really hard not to snore."

S: "If I snore you can just smother me with a pillow." Maybe then everything will stop. He rolls over and pulls one of Papyrus's plush toys to him. God, he's a mess.... "G'night, little bro."

G:: Papyrus' forehead winds up in the very middle of Sans' back, between his shoulderblades. "Goodnight, brother."

S: Sans is so tired. He sleeps like shit, though, has restless and vaguely nightmarish dreams. Melancholy and terrifying. He tosses, turns. Probably wakes Papyrus up. When his phone alarm goes off in the morning, he's diagonal, one arm thrown across Papyrus, drooling on his own wadded-up hoodie under his head. He squeezes his eyes shut and pretends it's not going off.

G:: "Saaans.." Nothing much. "Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaans." Ugh, Papyrus knows he's awake. his alarm is so annoying, why is it so annoying? He winds up half-rolling, half-wiggling his way to the bedside table in order to turn it off. "You're too heeaavvyyy."

S: "I'm not getting up." Sans grabs Papyrus's pillow and stuffs it over his head. Maybe he can  gently smother himself, just a little. Just to a coma. "Stay home from school, let's watch bad movies and eat trash food."

G:: Papyrus scoffs and winds up half-flopped on Sans when he finally gets the alarm turned off. "I can't miss school, I've never missed school."

S: "So you're allowed a sick day, right?" Sans knows if he doesn't go into the lab today, Gaster is going to be suspicious. Angry. The others will probably blow up his phone. He knows all that.

But.

He either wants to curl up and die a little, or spend all day with his brother.  
"I can get the homework from your teacher. It'll be fine. You work really hard."

G:: "The Great Papyrus never gets sick! I eat all the foods groups and everything."

S: "I eat all the food groups too." Totally. Sans flops an arm over Papyrus and lists them off. "Hamburgers, ketchup, coffee. A balanced diet."

G:: "There's no milk! Or tomatoes, well. Okay, I guess there are tomatoes.. or other green things!" Tomatoes aren't green.. "It's a wonder you're so heavy, you don't even eat good things."

S: "Make up for quality with quantity, that's my theory. Scientifically proven to bulk you up." He yawns. "And I put milk in my coffee." He should make some coffee.... But that involves getting out of bed, and outside of this protected space, there are decisions to be made, and things to think about, and consequences to his actions. As long as he stays bundled up, nothing can get him.

G:: Papyrus' legs are still stuck under his brother.  
"Saaans, I have to go to school!"

S: "Do you really have to?" Sans is encouraging bad decisions. He knows how much Papyrus values school.  
(But what about that school ceasing to exist? Papyrus, ceasing to exist? Nothing- none of this-

 Can't think about that today. Crush it down.  )

G:: "You're such a lump. "

S: "It takes a lot of talent to be this much of a lump. I work hard at it."

G:: Papyrus huffs and flops back on his bed. Sans is stealing most of the pillow.  
"We need groceries!"

S: "We'll get groceries, then." When was the last time Sans did?  Was it really when he went to the market with Doc all that time ago? He'd just been dining out since....

G:: "And not just microwave pizza rolls?"

S: "Nah, we'll get real food." Sans picks up his phone to start typing out a grocery list when it starts buzzing. Incoming call..... He hesitantly slides to answer it. "'Ello?"

G:: "Hello! This is an automated message from the Underground Kingdom Public School System! There is a weather warning in effect for- _Snowdin._ \- and all surrounding areas! Due to extreme- _snowfall_ \- and- _low temperatures_ \- classes have been cancelled until conditions improve! Thank you, and have a great day!"

S: Fuckin sweet . "Hey, Papyrus?" Sans sits up grinning. "Snow day." He switches his phone to speaker and lets Papyrus hear the message as it loops again. Shit, this means he has a valid excuse at the lab, too....

Even if Gaster isn't going to want to hear it.  
He texts a group message to the other 3 instead.

_Snow day in Snowdin. It's pretty bad out here, and my brother's school is cancelled, so I'm stayin home with him. If you need to call me at any point feel free, I can work from home. Hope the Doc is tolerable today._

G:: "Oh... Oh! " Papryus brightens, his face lighting up. Jeeze, his eyes are practically sparkling.. "That means I don't have to miss class! Well, I mean, not really.. Snow day!" It's been a long time since they last had a snow day. Snow is kind of Snowdin's thing, so they're pretty used to it. It must be pretty bad outside, right? Papyrus manages to squirm out from under Sans and get to the window.  
" _Whhooaaaa..._ "

S: Sans pops up after him to peek outside. Papyrus's room is on the second floor, but it's pretty clear they're snowed in  The snow looks high and crystalline. And _cold_ , even more reason not to want to leave bed..... "Looks like we're stayin inside today, bud. Wanna see what we can make with what we've got in the kitchen?"

G:: "I've already made what we can make with what we've got in the kitchen!" So he's been making some pretty weird things.. And he can only go over to Nacarat's so many times before he starts feeling a little bit guilty. "We can make snow cones!!"

S: What've they got in the kitchen to make snow cones with?  
"Ketchup snow cones." It sounds.... actually, pretty edible. "C'mon, kiddo, we're gonna make snowcones."

G:: Papyrus considers putting on real clothes, but his pajamas are really cuddly.  
"Do you think you could bake snow? Maybe you can fry it.. Have you ever had fried snow?"

S: "We sure can try." Honestly Sans figures they'll just end up with crunchy fried bits of breading.... Which sounds like something he'd eat anyways. The good bits. "Or use it for soup." Supposedly you can make ice cream out of snow.... That probably requires more ingredients than he really has, though.

G:: They nearly burn the kitchen down with their fried snow idea.

* * *

 

The cold sticks around for two days, snow deep enough that it comes halfway up their front door. Saturday is spent with cartoons in the morning and a dinner at Grillby's since he managed to safely melt paths between most of the buildings in town. The restaurant is warm and hopping with business, and he perhaps comes home with the skeletons after the bar closes down.

 Monday is. Tense. But there is a vial attached to the chronoscope that glows yellow, even if Gaster's pupils are sunk deep in his skull and dull dull dull. He looks as though he's been bent over the lab tables since he and Sans parted ways.

S: Sans is careful and quiet when he slips into the lab in the morning; he couldn't have picked a worse time to get snowed in, and he's sure Gaster barely believes it. (Even though Sans is sure still has the chill stuck to his bones to prove it; he about only managed to dispel the cold with a little help from a certain flame sprite.) He's better than he was Thursday night, and worse, all at once- nothing like spending time in his home to remind him what he's missing.

He crushes all of it down as best he can. There's work to be done, and he can't seem to find a way to stop it from happening. Gaster looks brittle again, spindly and hunched, and Sans steers a wide berth around him as he gets set up to work. The vial catches his eyes, hard to pull away, and he goes a little breathless.

"Is that really it? A synthesized- element?" Hard to know what to call it.

G:: "Yes." Even Gaster's voice sounds stretched thin, crackling against his hard palate. He's curled over a microscope, manipulating strands of proteins. It glows faintly, but it doesn't match any of the human souls yet.  
Kenny hovers close by Gaster's elbow, their hands fidgeting with a rack of vials and dishes.   
"The doctor has been busy while we've been gone, I guess."

S: "It's incredible." He can say that without any twinge of horror- it is. The part of him that's a scientist has always loved this, the thrill of something new, the rush of discovery.  
It's a real, genuine imitation (oxymoronical though that sounds) of whatever it is humans can use.  
Sans wants to mess with it. To find out what it can do. To knock the rack of dishes off the counter so he can watch them all reform. He doesn't.

"We've got a lot of catching up to do, honestly." Jawbone burrows out as Sans is setting up his workstation. "The formula's going to be different for all of them, and we're not going to be able to 100% go off of what the Doc has already discovered." Even he looks wary. And maybe a little hung over. Sans wouldn't be surprised if he spent his weekend wasted. Seems like it's getting to all of them. "So.... I guess we'd better snap to it."

G:: Gaster hums and shakes his head, pulls away from the microscope. His fingers tap in waves on the tabletop for a moment before he stands. For the first time in hours, it looks like. "You, come." He crooks a finger at Sans and gestures towards his office with his head.  
Kenny looks a little worried, and they shoot a look at Sans. "Um.. Doctor Gaster, should we just? Continue with-"  
"I will be back before long, do not touch the one I am working with currently. Just return to where you started before the weekend."  
"Ah. Yes, sir.."

S: Right. Sans feels fear vaulting in his stomach (or lack thereof) , flipflops of panic running through his marrow. What's Gaster going to say? How badly is he about to get chewed out?

He follows, though. Obedient. It'll be his undoing, won't it?  
He remains quiet. There's no doubt he's going to get chewed out, and he doesn't have much excuse for himself that Gaster will accept.

G:: Gaster closes the door behind them and points crookedly at one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Sit." Being awake for so long makes his sentences terrible short.  
The bank of security monitors along his wall flicker with shots all over the lab, grainy and achromatic. Gaster drops down into his own chair and turns his head to watch them for a while, obviously tired and distracted.

S: Sans does sit, but stillness and silence start to crush in on him for a while. The anticipation of whatever Gaster is about to say overwhelms him and he starts picking at a bit of peeling varnish on Gaster's desk. "About taking off. I- know. It was badly timed. My brother had a snow day, and I couldn't leave him alone. It was- next time I'll find someone to look after him. Sorry."

G:: One of Gaster's hands shoots out to smack at Sans.  
"Stop that." It isn't very hard, at least.. His fingers curl into his palm like a dead spider's legs, and he draws it back to knock against his desktop once. His molars are set together.. "I want you working on your thesis rather than synthesizing with the rest of the team."

S: Sans is startled by the smack to utter silence, and he rubs at the spot where Gaster smacked for a second. It's still not the chewing out he expected to receive, and he has to take a second to recover from being caught off guard by it. After a minute, he looks up at Gaster. He looks so tired. It's that same old ache that always wells up; Sans wants to protect him. Once again. This time he at least has the sense to feel stupid about it.  
But not stupid enough to send it away.   
"I can work on my thesis. I- was pretty close to making some some breakthroughs before we started synthesizing." The pause is tangible, and he finally voices the silent. "Why?"

G:: "Logic dictates that I am acting. Unemotionally. Just as logic dictates that shouldn't be an issue." Gaster seems disgruntled to have come to this conclusion at all. "Though I know it should be. I know it would have been, once." It's difficult to gather up his thoughts, sleeplessly scattered as they are. He rests his elbows on his desk and his face in his hands and knows that if he isn't careful, he can fall asleep just like that.  
"I must apologize to you, though I cannot tell if it is because I want to or because I know if I don't, I have the possibility of losing you to." Gaster shrugs and waves a hand at nothing in particular. "This, all of this."

S: Sans breathes in for a second because his ribs feel funny and it's like all that mess is about to bubble back over. The worst part about all of it is that when Sans thinks he can finally- when Gaster does something that Sans thinks will be the last straw, when the dread and horror overwhelms him, Sans.  
Sans keeps seeing the ghost of who he must have been. The fact that he doesn't want to be like this. He wants to get better.

He doesn't want to lose Sans.

_It's because you're useful._  Well, that's true, but. He could replace him. He's replaced so many other interns.... But Sans isn't just an intern. He's his protégé.  
"I know you don't want to be like this." It's very quiet. "I understand."

G:: "No, you do not. And you could not." He laughs darkly to himself before falling quiet for a few minutes. "I don't want you to. Which puts me in a rather difficult position, I am afraid." What, with war so close at hand. Supposedly.

S: Sans does fall quiet then. The idea of becoming like- this- has come to him before. Mostly at night, when all his fears like to come creeping in.  
"If I can identify it, I can. I can figure out what to do about it." He can save Gaster. And- all of them. From being lost. After what they'll have no choice but to do.

It aches through him for a little while. He's never particularly thought of his feelings as being something worth salvaging. They've done him more harm than good. And yet. Gaster wants to protect them, to whatever extent. Keep them... existing.

G:: Ah, what a pathetic situation. That is about the extent of what Gaster is capable of feeling at the moment, with how tired he is. With how... wrong he's become. He sighs deeply into his hands, his breath whistling through his bones and the holes there.  
"I am sorry, Sans. For running you off the way I did. I am afraid that is all I can say with sincerity, right now."

S: "I appreciate it. The honesty, and. The apology." It's maybe more than he expected. Maybe more than what he knows what to do with.  
"There's a lot at stake, Doc. A whole lot. It's..... it's very hard to deal with all of it. But...." Sans swallows. "I'm gonna fix it. Everything. Somehow." How many people has he said that to lately? How many promises is he making? He feels more and more weight on his shoulders every time.

G:: "Empty reassurances do not work on people who know better." Gaster rises very slowly, his spine and shoulders bent in the same position they were in when he was sitting. He feels his age dragging on his bones and the darkness beneath his eyes and the quiet nihilism he knows he could so easily fall into. Not now, though. Not when they are finally so close. "Just be honest with me. I can handle that better than false promises."

S: Be honest. There's a long, achy silence. Long enough Sans fears Gaster might leave before he speaks.  
"Sometimes I get so scared of. Of........... things about you  Of losing everything and everyone. But this work is the only glimmer of hope for monter kind. You....are. Important." Sans is very quiet. It's.... hard, to say this. He puts on a smile for everyone . "I still don't know what to do. But I want to.... at the very least, I can try to make you more like your old self. It's all I know how to do."

G:: "Well. Then I would implore you to return to your breakthrough." Before he does something he would have condemned himself for, once upon a time.  
Ah.  
As if he hasn't already. Gaster doesn't bother stretching, he knows he'll simply return to the same crooked posture in a minute or two. A hand drops to stroke over Sans' skull as he walks by, but he's back out the door and back to work without another word.

S: Sans follows after a brief moment. Every casual touch, every soft moment like this (but can he call it soft, even? More fragile, more brittle, more desperate) just pushes him further. He knows- he knows he's biased. But he can't help wanting to save him.  
It's a long work day. There are calculations to do. A lot of math, a lot of comparing numbers. He's getting close to a formula, though. And if he gets the formula.... he can test it on Gaster.

G:: Days pass.

Days pass and progress creaks by in long minutes and measures of degrees that Gaster bends low. His pupils flicker like dying candle flames, only occasionally catching the glow from their synthesized elements. Yellow, blue, orange, green, and eventually aqua.

They gather around the chronoscope, Bikeaby looking nervous and unkempt, Kenny awestruck, and Gaster.... unwell. Just unwell.

"Which has the largest time disparity?" His voice is very brittle and sounds like it rattles all the way up his rib cage in order to come out of him.  
"The green soul, the fourth."  
"Begin the injection process. We will dial everything back just a few seconds to start out, and-"  
"Whoa, doc, hold on!" Bikeaby catches him with a shoulder, his ears laying back flat. "Come on, G, we've gotten this far. This is a lot, we can worry about tests after you get a fucking nap."

S: "I don't say this often, but Bikeaby is right." Jawbone has big rings under his big eyes, and Sans can smell the hangover on him. They're all degrees of messy. None more than Gaster. When Sans speaks up, it's quiet.  
"Actually, if you're at a pausing point with this, I wanted to talk to you about my thesis." And maybe convince him, while he's there, to rest.

G:: "Nn, don't you all tu-"  
Bikeaby hisses lowly and bonks his forehead into Gaster's skull since his arms are a little busy holding his weary bones up. "And you don't even play that card. You can't keep going like this, none of us can, but especially not you. How long has it been since you've gotten decent sleep?"  
"Judging by the depth of his pupils, probably around five days."  
"Yeah, see?" Bikeaby drops him off in a rolling chair, and Gaster seems to curl into himself a little. His eyes are so black, it's nearly frightening. "I'm declaring a weekend before you run us all into the ground."  
The doctor almost seems to fall asleep for a moment with how still and quiet he is. "Terribly unlike you to suddenly grow a spine."  
"Well, I need my beauty sleep, too."

S: Sans keeps thinking Bikeaby is going to get himself murdered - he _headbutted_ Gaster - but he's right, and Gaster desperately needs rest. Sans doesn't know if a monster can die from lack of sleep. He really doesn't want to find out.  
"Come on." He holds his hand out to take Gaster upstairs. "We really can't afford to have anyone die. Least of all when Bikeaby finally gave up being a fraidy cat." Well, at least he's awake enough to make puns....

G:: "We'll get everything in order down here, doctor." Kenny even sets about putting everything back in their respective places, just to reassure him. "But we do really need a few days off."  
They've been going straight on for a long time, missing sleep and meals and the world outside the lab. Delicate work, protein synthesis. Headache-inducing at the same time it's mind-numbing.  
"Two. Two days."  
"A week." Bikeaby seems adamant.  
"Preposterous." And Gaster is offended. His teeth grind together, but Kenny cuts it off before things get heated.  
"We'll discuss it, all of us, after you've had some sleep. Okay?" They pat the hand Sans isn't occupied with and nods to him. "Goodnight, doctor."

S: "C'mon." Sans half drags him upstairs, the chair he's in rolling a little ways before he gets Gaster up onto his feet. He only gets as far as the elevator before he decides the rest of the trip is too much effort and folds them up to Gaster's room. He's... kind of not good at supporting Gaster's weight.... so he ends up essentially dumping him onto the bed.

G:: Gaster actually crackles when he lands on his mattress, groaning unhappily at both the impact and the kind of jetlag he gets from the jump. His head spins uncomfortably.. but he manages to rearrange himself in order to sit on the edge of his bed. He droops over his own knees like a flower in the process of wilting, his eye sockets closed.   
"What is it you wanted to talk about?"

S: "I got it." Sans perches in one of the armchairs over in what would be best described as Gaster's reading nook. At least, if the room wasn't pitch black. The urge to wrap around him gets so bad when Gaster is like this. Sans thinks there's something wrong with him.   
"The formula? To measure out the physical change brought on by the - by killing others? I found it. It's a specific algorithm." It's not exactly something he feels like getting in-depth with when Gaster is exhausted, brittle and creaky like this. But it's maybe something for him to sleep on. Maybe a spot of hope. "So far the numbers match up to you."

G:: "Then that is confirmation, I suppose. The final nail that supports your theory." Gaster doesn't sound particularly happy about it, but he doesn't necessarily sound unhappy, either. He struggles with emotions enough already, being as tired as he is hasn't helped. "What a mess."

S: "A mess, yeah." It's the beginning, though. "I've given it, uh- a cursory name. LoVe, - uh, Level of Violence. A physical measure of the capability for violence in a being." Sans falls quiet for a little while. "But we can talk more when you're rested."

 It's stupid how much he wants to curl around Gaster, right now.

 He isn't supposed to want to protect someone who's been around a hundred years or more. Gaster can protect himself.  
Except he can't, right now, can he? "You need sleep. I won't keep on. You- desperately need sleep." He laughs, a little pathetically.

G:: Gaster grunts in irritation, his head creaking around enough so he can shoot a dirty look at Sans.   
"I have done this far longer than you have been walking this earth, boy, don't go treating me like an invalid." Like he doesn't know what he's done to himself, how long he can go, how long he can push until he literally drops. This is close, he'll admit if anyone asks. But it's not the end of his rope.

S: Ah. There it is. The weird little shred of fear that sometimes happens around Gaster.  
Always when his guard is down.

Sans fights past it and his better instincts. "I'm not treating you like an invalid." He hesitates a heavy moment, sure he's going to regret everything. "I was just thinking about how I'd. I'd better leave before I try to conk out next to you."

G:: "How forward of you."

S: It's awful. Sans is awful. He kind of hates himself.   
"I'm not going to." He's going to go home and hope Gaster doesn't try to crawl back into the lab and keep working.

G:: "The honesty is appreciated. Even if I did not ask for it." Gaster isn't sure if he's trying to be funny or not. He isn't sure of a lot of things, most especially why he's still awake. Without much else in the way of words or warning, he shrugs himself out of his cloak and crawls under his blankets, his face sinking deep into the pillows. "Oh, thank god."

S: Sans does finally relax, a little bit, then. He wasn't entirely sure Gaster had conceded to rest until then. But now he can sleep.   
"I probably should keep my mouth shut." At least in regards to this whole- gross mess he feels about Gaster. "I'm going home. And- really, really hoping you can swing at least 3 days off."

G:: Gaster grumbles, dissatisfied. "We are too close to slow down now, Sans." His eyes flicker open a little before falling shut again. "Three days," he sighs into his pillow, "Three days, and then we are all back in the lab."

S: "Three." Three days to plan what the hell he's going to do. Because- he's not going to let everyone disappear, is he?

Is he?

Well.  
He's still technically a college student. He's used to working on tight schedules. "Goodnight, Doc."

* * *

 

G:: Three days that the lab has been empty. Three days that Gaster has purposefully avoided it, along with the rest of the team.

Three days is apparently long enough for hell to break loose.

"Where? Where the hell is it?"  
Kenny and Bikeaby call around on their own phones while Gaster deals with the conference call, the room a flurry of voices and confusion. The new arm on the chronoscope makes another jump, outpacing the others for a few seconds.  
"Another fifteen minutes added to the disparity!"  
"It is your job to find them, why can none of you tell me anything ?"

S: "I've got the sentry at Hotland on the line." Jawbone is on speaker phone while he struggles to unfold a large map, and Sans rushes over to help him with it. There's the distinct sound of a canine monster whining on the other line.  
"So?"  
"So, there's nothing passing across the bridge to Hotland, unless they can swim through lava as well as fuck up the timeline. That's the only point of entry, so they haven't made it this far."

"Fuck." Sans' bones feel cold and achy.

G:: Gaster slams the receiver back into its cradle, making the table rattle. "Useless!!" He throws off his lab coat, leaving it on the floor, and yanks his black cloak over his frame. "No choice but to do the job myself. Sans, come. We will deal with this."  
Kenny drops their phone to come running for Gaster, looking concerned. "Doctor, we should wait! You don't know what's going on with the human, maybe the guards can find it and deal with it!"  
"I have killed every one before, the sentries will be lucky if I don't decide to catch them in the crossfire."

S: "Doc, it's too -" Too what? Sans is already shrugging out of his labcoat and into a dark hoodie, anyways, like he hasn't already fucking made up his mind to come. "-not a single missing monster report or causalty call has come in yet?"

"So what, Sans, you know it's coming. Are you going to sit around and wait on monsters to die???"

Fuck. "No. Shit. I don't know." He's shoving his feet in sneakers instead of slippers as fast as he can. "We'll stop them. Catch them."

"Kill them."  
A shaky breath. "Yeah. Kill them. Coming, Doc, wait up-"

G:: "The outright incompetence, extraordinary.." Gaster appears to be muttering mostly for his own benefit. He grabs a fistful if Sans' hoodie and makes a jump just outside the lab door, too impatient and angry to wait any longer.

They start out close to the Ruins, but Gaster doesn't look long before folding them both back to Hotland. The human hasn't come this far, not yet, but working at the extremes and focusing inwards is going to be the best way to find them. Gaster's teeth are grit as he compounds space over and over, working tighter and tighter. The snowy forest, the Hotland bridge, Snowdin, the long pier over Waterfall, the swamp of echo flowers.

S: "Doc-" There's a pop in Sans' skull when Gaster folds space around them again, and again. There's a throbbing in his parietal bone, and in his eye socket. He's never jumped so many times in such a short span and he's dizzy, dizzy. "Slow down -" But they're already about at the epicenter of their search, there's no use now, is there? "We might miss them." He's out of breath like he's been running.

G:: Gaster's eyes flash shades of blue and violet, his teeth grit hard as he flashes through scenery and temperatures and time. His head hurts, a migraine  splitting across his skull.   
"No time, no time-" He makes another jump and then backtracks, his voice spitting sharp from between his teeth. "You!"  
The human, just a small thing, stumbles off the dock and into the reeds. "Run!"  
The riverperson doesn't need to be told twice, and they speed down the waterway on the back of their longcat.

S: Sans nearly tumbles over his own feet setting after the human. They leave a trail of crushed sea grass underfoot, telltale rustling, panting as they struggle to outpace Sans and Gaster. Sans takes off ahead, short legs carrying him as hard as they can, trying to catch up to them before Gaster does.

He's close to closing the gap.

Maybe he can.

Maybe if he just....

Maybe Gaster doesn't have to do it.

G:: Gaster is close behind Sans, the darkness growing deeper around him so that's he's little more than a bony face, hands, and those bright fiery eyes. Space folds... and then jerks back into place as Gaster tumbles, clutching his skull.  
The human glances behind their shoulder and murmurs under their breath. They're counting off time, one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, raspy and struggling to draw breath. They seem to know this place awfully well, and after enough time, they veer suddenly south. The garbage dump, a dead end but a good hiding place.

S: Sans trips after them, legs sinking into water when he crosses into the dump. There are piles of human trash everywhere- tires, plastic bags. He looks for a human-shaped disturbance, a place a human could hide. Something, anything.

There-

He shoves aside a few plastic containers.

It's gotta be-

 ... No, it's just a dumb, lifeless training dummy. Sans shoves it aside and swears under his breath.

The human's not even trying to fight, are they? The last one tried... This one... Sans swallows, voice brittle. "Listen- human-"

G:: A small hand comes out from behind a pile of trash and tugs Sans back behind it, as well. The human is trying hard not to pant, sounding worn out and thin, and takes a couple deep pulls off an inhaler.  
  
"We have to.. both hide.. or else.. he finds us." They take out a little notepad and flip through, counting again under their breath. They duck down low around the twenty-second mark, holding their breath as best as they can.

S: It's a sudden sharp panic through his chest when they pull him in.  
 _What are they doing_ ?  
Sans knows he should signal Gaster, shout. Wave. _Over here. Get them._

There are notes scrawled in a shaky hand on the notebook, hard to read in the dark, some blurred with water droplets (tears?)

Sans stays frozen. They're small, barely as tall as him. They're supposed to be entering a battle. But they're just.....

Hiding.

"You made a mistake." He still whispers it.

G:: They put a hand over Sans' mouth, and they take a deep breath before covering their own, too. There's noise, water splashing, long strides approaching and then silence. The human closes their eyes, their hand clamping tighter, face going red. The silence lasts a full thirty seconds.. and then the splashing returns, receding this time. The human finally takes a huge gasp of air, doubling over their knees, but they calm down quickly this time.

"He'll find us, but.. Not before we talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little shorter than usual because this next part is Big. I hope you're ready for the ride. 
> 
> Also, because I felt like being self-indulgent, I drew last chapter's Bikeaby and Sans cuddling.
> 
>  
> 
> [Please look at my stupid draw of this dumb cat and skel.](http://mister13eyond.tumblr.com/post/144027266812/this-is-so-self-indulgent-its-utterly)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a human in the underground.

S: Sans doesn't know what he's supposed to do . Why do they trust him? Why are they just... talking? To him?  
"You made a mistake," he repeats. "I'm with him. We're here to - we're here to kill you, kid."

They are just a kid, aren't they? Younger than Papyrus. Shit, what is going on here?

G:: "I know.. But! But you don't have to!" They've just about caught their breath, at least enough to smile a little.  
"I know about the barrier. And I know.. a little about Asgore. I've been taking notes!" They flip their notebook to the first page and hand it over to Sans. There's a crack in their glasses.. "I'm a scientist, too, or.. I want to be. One day."

S: _Oh, god._  
Sans feels something heavy and awful in his ribs as he flips through the notebook. The notes are messy, a few places unreadable. He catches a few quotes from some books in the Snowdin library. Names, stats. (Toriel? Wasn't that the queen?)  
"You've done this before." He catches a little scrawled word- 'blaster'- that makes him feel vaguely sick. "Gaster's killed you before, hasn't he?"

G:: They nod a little, slowly.  
"I've been.. trying to do things right, you know? And I was doing pretty good, but." They fall quiet again before taking off their glasses and cleaning them off on their shirt. It just smudges them worse, ugh every time.. "I don't know how to get past him. I tried everything, I even tried-!" They don't seem proud of whatever they tried. "Stuff that I didn't want to."

S: Sans hands the notebook back with shaky hands. The kid probably needs it...  
"Nobody has gotten past him before." He's on alert, listening for Gaster. What will the Doc do if he catches them talking? He'll kill the human, no doubt....

Sans wants to avoid that for multiple reasons.  
"You gotta avoid being caught in a battle with him. He's got a weapon, after that, almost impossible to avoid." He hears a sound, but when he looks at it, it's just trash that has dislodged from a pile. "Why are you trusting me?"

G:: "I've done this a lot. A lot.." The human gulps audibly. "I.. You're the only one who listens to me. And the only one _he_ listens to."

S: "Okay. Shit, okay. This'll... let's figure this out." He smiles warily. "One scientist to another. You said you know about the Barrier, right? And you- you haven't hurt any monsters before." They don't seem to be hurting Sans... "So- if you do hurt anyone. Know...." Sans feels the light drop out of his eyes, deep and dark. "Know I'll make sure you end here." But he doesn't have time for threats. "Come on. Grab my hand. We're going somewhere else."

G:: "I know." The human readily takes Sans' hand, completely trusting. Well, they have apparently done this countless times.. Judging by the time that read out on the chronoscope, they are. Incredibly patient. "I don't.. know a lot about most of the things down here. But maybe I could help.. somehow."

S: Sans squeezes their hand before he folds space around the both of them, sweeping them off to the little practice room where he and Gaster train. Admittedly it's someplace Gaster can access.... but he'll take quite some time to think to look here. Hopefully he won't jump to the worst conclusions when he doesn't see Sans....  
"We can.... we can figure it out." He keeps saying that.... "The King is a really nice guy. But.... he also issued the decree that any human that falls down should be killed." Sans runs his free hand over his skull, nervous. "I don't want Gaster to have to kill you. You seem okay, and- heck- killing humans is bad for us. It doesn't suit either of us."

G:: The human easily finds a toadstool in the dark and lights it up. They really have been here before.  
"You've told me. About the LV, and how we gain it when we kill, and how it makes us stronger. I don't.. think I can ever be strong enough to defeat him." They say it with much more assurance than it seems they should. As if, perhaps, they've tried.

S: Names and stats in their little book. A chill runs down Sans' spine.  Is it possible they....

No, if he thinks down that path, he's going to get distracted.

"Right, you won't be able to. He's - got the combined strength of every past human that passed through here." Sans swallows again. It feels like the first time for him... How many times has he tried to change the outcome, without knowing what he did before? How many times has he failed? The human remembers, but he doesn't... "So you're not going to fight him. That's off the table." But what has he already tried? "You know a few things I don't. How long do we have in here before he finds us?" Sans can think on his feet, at least.

G:: They shrug. "Time doesn't matter. He just... comes along whenever we start to get hopeful.."

S: Boy oh boy. Leave it to Gaster. "Alright, well, what about taking you to see the King? Asgore's an... understanding guy. He would surely see you're not too bad, be willing to talk, see if we can figure out this Barrier thing together, right?" It seems like an idea Sans would have had before, so at this point he's waiting for it to be shot down.

G:: "No, nono. That... That's not a good idea." The human is immediately nervous of that, sweat popping up across their forehead, the shake of their head nothing short of adamant. They flip through their notebook until they come to a page and show it to Sans.

It's difficult to tell what it's supposed to be, some kind of hastily-scrawled drawing, something... awful and black. "I've tried. We've tried... it didn't turn out good.."

S: What is that drawing? Sans squints at it for a second before giving up. They know more about this than he does.  
"Okay. So we're not talking to King Fluffybuns, and you're under no circumstances fighting Gaster." Sans runs a hand over his skull as he tries to process. What would he do as plan B, plan C? D?

He could always kill the human himself.  
How many times has he tried that? Has he? Would the human still be here, trusting him, talking to him, if he did?

Sheesh, there are a lot of messy moral implications with this whole thing. And to Sans, it's the first and only time. Or rather.... to every Sans, it's been the first and only time.  
"Alright, what about an escape plan? You got down here somehow...."

G:: "Through the Ruins. All humans come through the Ruins, but.. It was an accident. And there's..!" The human catches themself and looks away.  
"Well.. There's no way back now, not through there." They sit down in a dry patch of stone, perhaps one of the only ones in this entire hollow. "The only way I know of, the only way anyone knows of, is through the barrier. But.. I've tried so many different ways. Even when I get there, Doctor Gaster stops me. Or.. some version of him, every time."

S: Sans thinks about the drawing again, the hastily scribbled black seething thing . _How tragic is being tried for treason if you're already a god?_  

"Even if I'm there?" Well... not that Sans thinks he could necessarily stop Gaster. Certainly not if the Doc somehow managed to become more.... powerful.  
"There's gotta be a way, right? We've just gotta put our heads together."

G:: The human nods a little.  
"That's what we've been trying to figure out. What I've been trying to figure out.. this whole time." They scribble something in their notebook, just little loops in pen. "I've got his attack patterns figured out, I know his dialogue.. Everything happens the same, every time, in all the different ways I go at it."

S: Well that's interesting. Sans slips down into a sitting position, cross-legged, hands stuffed in his pockets. So he can think.  
"Have I interfered before? Or- intervened? I mean, that could be.... he listens to me. Tries to." No, he's getting ahead of himself. "Walk me through it."

G:: "You're the only way I even get close.." They look rocky on that front. "Well.. I mean.. You're the only one that gives him any pause. If only for a few minutes."

S: "But it never fully sways him, huh." Sans wishes he had the advantage of memory. Knowing what he'd said, what he'd tried, how he'd tried to convince Gaster.  Not that Gaster would remember either, would he? He rests his elbow on his knee, his forehead in his palm."There's gotta be a way to get him to see the light. He's a man of science."

G:: The human is quiet for a little while, staring down at their own hands in their lap.  
"Last time.. Before I had to completely start over, last time the king tried to stop him. I talked to him, and he took my side, and he tried to just talk for a while.. But. That doctor didn't want to listen, or wouldn't, or couldn't, and.." Their voice gets small and weak and a little wobbly. "I just don't know what I can do anymore."

S: "Hey. Hey, kiddo, c'mon." All of a sudden they're not a terrifying time-bending demon, they're a kid, younger than Papyrus, who's just.

_Scared. They're just scared._

Yeah, so is Sans.  
Is Gaster even capable of understanding anymore? He tries, for Sans. When he can. But he can barely manage that much, and humans.  
Well, Sans doesn't think he really sees them as.... people . He remembers Gaster with the yellow soul, Gaster talking about eradicating all of them. And suddenly it's sharp and bright and awful just how bad that'd be for all of them.

Sans can't imagine looking at a small, scared kid and not being able to feel anything . Not a shred of a thing.  
"You've talked to everyone so far. And hey, you've got me on your side." Sans stands up and dusts himself off. "Me and Asgore together, a double threat. We'll both take your side, and try and change Gaster's mind. We can wear him down. He'll understand."

G:: "We can't, we can't go to the king, don't..." They shake their head slowly and double over their own knees.  
"I don't wanna do that again.." The waterworks finally start up, pathetic and sniffly.

S: "Okay, whoah. Whoah, whoah." Shit, they're crying. Sans awkwardly hovers for a second, staring, not sure what to do, before he crouches down and starts patting their head awkwardly. How did he used to stop Papyrus from crying, when he was little?  
"Hey, kid. Why didn't the skeleton cross the road?"

G:: "Because they didn't have any gu-huh-huuuuuuuts.."

S: "Heard that one, huh?" Sans grins weakly at them. "Okay. C'mon. Hup." He's not very strong, but they aren't very big, so he picks them up easy enough. "We're going somewhere else. To Snowdin. We're gonna hide out a while."

G:: The human wraps their arms around Sans' neck and buries their face in his hoodie, like they've done a multitude of times now.  
"He'll find us there, too, you know.."

S: "So we'll run away somewhere else. And keep on running." Sans bends space around them, brings them to the woods before snowdin. It's still and quiet and cold.  
"You must've had a heck of a time getting through all the puzzles and stuff the Guard set, huh?"

G:: "They're not very good guards.. But. They're pretty cute." They still aren't dressed for the snow, but they didn't really spend enough time in Snowdin to need a coat or anything. It's not like they stick around long enough to catch a cold.

S: Sans keeps them on piggyback, mostly because they're easier to hide that way, too. There's only one set of prints in the snow, one trail.  
"I've gotta admit. You're the first human to come down here who hasn't killed at least one of us."

G:: Their little hands tighten on the front of Sans' jacket a fraction. "This time.."

S: This time. It sends that spike of horror and fear down his spine. "If you did, you undid it. That's what matters, right?" It has to be.

G:: "It didn't get me any closer to getting home." The human peeks over Sans' shoulder at the town at the edge of the woods. It seems like days have passed since they were here last, but... It's really only been a couple hours. If that long... Time has been strange and inconsistent. "Are we going to Grillby's this time?"

S: This time. Sans still can't quite wrap his head around it.  
"Sure. You hungry? We could use some burg, huh? "

G:: "I think my inventory is full.. Not that it matters, huh?" They bonk their forehead on the back of Sans' skull, shivering. "Grillby's gonna be mad. I think? He.. doesn't have facial expressions."

S: "You get to where you can read him after a while." They're so familiar with everything.... "Hey, wait. Tell me exactly what he does, and we can pull a prank on him, wouldn't that be hilarious?"

G:: "Not as much as you always think it will be.."

S: Oh.... Well, damn. Sans shifts their weight a little bit. They're getting kinda heavy....  
"You really have done this a lot." He still steps through the snow, quietly, heading toward Grilby's. "It feels like the first time for me. You probably know that too, huh?"

G:: They nod and squeeze Sans' ribs with their knees before climbing down off of his back. The snow comes up to their bare knees, but they're only in it until they reach Grillby's door. The bar kind of goes quiet when they come in with Sans..  
"Sorry.. I'm back."

S: Sans grins at Grillby, uneasy. Jokes buzz through his head, and he almost gives voice to most of them. But he settles with a very quiet "I didn't know where else to go."

G:: The bar is silent for another minute or so before someone inside yells an enthusiastic, "Saaaans!" and conversation starts up again. The monsters inside aren't exactly ignoring the human, more like feigning ignorance. That's alright. It'll probably keep them safe after the human is gone...

S: Right. That's.... abnormal, but nothing about this situation is normal. Sans ruffles the ears of the bunny who always seems ready to conk out in her booth on his way to slide up on his usual bar stool.  
"Two burg, Grillby?"

G:: Grillby nods once and heads to the back to take care of it. The human takes the spot next to Sans, their hands curling around the edge of the bar. "Why are you so nice to me?"

S: Why indeed? Sans could have killed them a hundred times. They, in at least one timeline, killed him, didn't they?  
"You're a future scientist, right? Gotta support bright thinkers." And because he can't find it in him to do what he knows needs to be done.

G:: "Yeah.." They trace the woodgrain before just conceding and settling a cheek on the bartop. "I don't know why I wanna get home so much... Everyone down here is nicer than back on the surface." Well.. "Almost everyone.."

S: Almost everyone.  
"He's really not so bad once you get to know him." But then, Sans hasn't been murdered by Gaster before.... He claps a hand on the kid's back, attempting cheery. "Monsters are made up of compassion and magic. But we've made some mistakes, too." Hasn't everyone? "It's okay to want to go home. You've got family there, right? Friends. You must miss them."

G:: The human looks tiredly up at Sans, silent, before crossing their arms on the counter and turning their face into them.  
Grillby comes back with two plates and settles them down for both of them, and he flickers perhaps.. tightly, if that's even possible.

S: Sans is stuck hovering, awkward. They're so small. So sad. _They killed all of us at least once._ Sans rubs uneasy circles on their back, looks helplessly at Grillby.  
"Hey. What's one thing you wanted to do, kid, the whole time you were down here, and haven't gotten to yet?" Distract. Distract, hide, flee, rinse, repeat.

G:: "I don't know if I can."  
Grillby deflates and flickers a little. He pushes the plate of food a little closer to the human, until it gently knocks against one of their arms. They ignore it for a second... before stealing a fry and ducking back down.

"You've talked about Papyrus before.."

S: He goes kinda cold and still. No, that's. That's.  
"Papyrus is in school right now." He grins, uneasy. "You know how important that is."

G:: The human is still a moment, but they eventually nod. "Okay. Yeah, that makes sense."  
They never made it to meeting Papyrus before. What's one more time?

S: Sans swallows.  
"But. You've got time. We're gonna make everything work, right? So when he gets out of school a little later, you'll meet him. Deal?"

G:: "Okay." The human in sniffling again, but it sounds much less like they're in the middle of a cry this time.  
Grillby is still on the other side of the bar, looking... strangely awkward in what should be his element, considering he owns the place. Eventually, he shuffles elsewhere with one last worried look.

S: Sans ruffles their hair, oddly. Unsure. He feels like they know him so much better than he knows them. They trust him, for whatever reason.  
"C'mon, champ, you wanna go somewhere else now?"

G:: "You don't have to babysit me."

S: Sans slips off his barstool. "I'm not babysitting. I'm hanging out with ya."

G:: "You don't know me.." Even though the human knows Sans. Well enough, at least. They seem pretty content to leave their head on the bar, in any case.

S: "I feel like I do." That's true. It's something, maybe the echo of something. Sans should have been shocked when he first saw them, but.

Well.  
Maybe some part of him remembers, just a little.  
"And you know me. Enough to trust me, right? So. I'm trying to get to know you, where I can." So he can. Protect them. Like he's protecting Gaster, and the others.

G:: The human sighs a big sigh that puffs up their ribs, enough to fog up the shine on the bartop.  
"You always say that, every time we come here." They turn around on the barstool and hop down onto the floor, having barely touched the plate that Grillby brought out for them. "Maybe I can go back to the Ruins. I haven't tried that, yet.."

S: Every time. He's never thought of himself as predictable, but he supposes when he doesn't know what he's said before, he's going to end up repeating a few things..... Sans wonders about it. "I might can help you with that, actually." At the very least, he managed to get behind the door the dog lived behind..... "Wanna give it a shot?"

G:: "No.." The human shakes their head and buttons up their sweater to head back out into the snow. "I don't know.. Just go home."

S: "I can't leave you alone." Not with Gaster out there looking for them. How is he supposed to keep everyone safe like that?

G:: The human doesn't really seem to be listening anymore, and they head back out into the cold without another word.  
Grillby watches them go but doesn't intervene. He sits by Sans at the bar, quiet for a moment, before sighing.  
"What are you going to do with them?"  
The whole bar seems to be listening, quiet.

S: What is he going to do with them? He can't let them get killed, he can't. He can't get them out.

There's always so much weight on him. It's starting to get exhausting.  
"I just want to keep them somewhere safe. Safe for them, safe for us." Maybe they can live at the lab if he changes Gaster's mind......

G:: Grillby nods gently.  
"Your new friend is.. strange. But everyone seems to like them." His voice is low, but it still  nearly echoes around the room. No one seems to want to look up from their drinks. Guilt, maybe. "I suppose it's okay to not know what to do."

S: "They seem kind enough." At least this time around. Who knows about next time. Sans runs a hand over his skull, tired already. It's barely been a few hours since Gaster dragged him out, but it feels like a lifetime. He can't imagine how long the kid has been at this.... "I have to do something, though."

G:: "Nobody blames you, Sans." There are a few guard dogs clustered around a table, lapping slowly at their drinks. All of their ears are turned towards Sans and Grillby. "Nobody would."

S: "Grillby." Sans looks up, weary. "Where's Gaster at? I know he came by here. I can't.... let him, Grillby." Everyone is acting too funny. Sans is, at least, good at picking up on subtle cues.

G:: Grillby falls as quiet as the rest of the bar, his hands dangling limply between his knees. Eventually he adjusts his glasses and sighs heavily.  
"I don't think any of us knew what this took. What it really took." There's the very distinct sound of someone taking a shot near the front of the bar. "I don't know where he's gone, Sans. To find the two of you."

S: Sans thinks maybe it has dawned on all of them.  
_We're all for the destruction of humanity until someone actually has to do it._  

"I'm gonna go try and stop him, Grillby. I know that's." He falls a little quiet. "I know that's not helping us get out of here. But I can't help but think we can get out some other way, right?" That's what all the work is for. "I'll be back. Later. One way or another."

G:: "Just. Be safe, Sans. Stay safe."  
The bar slowly but surely goes back to normal, conversation starting up again and Grillby taking his place behind the counter.

S: Sans manages to follow the humans' tracks from afar despite the heavy snow falling, trying to cover them up; he's careful with his own, keeps his distance, kicks snow behind him over his path. He listens for the sounds of breaking twigs and labored breathing, stays just out of sight range as he tracks them.  
It occurs to Sans he'd be a good hunter, with deadly intent, but his intentions really are to protect.

More so than that, he's listening out for Gaster.

G:: The human isn't too deep into the woods, they've stopped right outside a guard outpost. The snow goes up to their knees, but they aren't shivering. They aren't really... moving much at all. Everything seems to have come to a standstill, though the snow still falls.

S: Sans hangs back for a minute to watch them. What are they doing? Waiting? Sans remains, still and quiet, breath held. Is Gaster nearby? He no doubt finds them, every time, but Sans hasn't even heard a whisper of him. Let alone seen him...  
They're awfully still, aren't they? Sans waits another full minute before hesitantly stepping forward, footsteps crunching in snow.

G:: The human is still for a while longer before simply plopping down in the snow. They spread their arms out and half-attempt a snow angel, but mostly they just puff clouds of air out into the cold.  
"If I stay right here, I know he can't get me."

S: "He can't?" Well that's interesting. "Picking up a few secrets here and there." Sans sits  down where he is, still in the shadow of a big tree, far enough away from them. The stillness settles for a while. He's not really in any hurry for anything to change. He wonders if they can just.... delay everything, infinitely. Stay here doing literally nothing, so that nothing can progress, nothing can happen.  
  
It's not a bad plan.

G:: "Maybe. Or maybe if I wait too long, he'll come anyway." The human shrugs, and a little snow falls onto their shoulders. "I can't go through the barrier. And I can't go back to the Ruins. So, maybe, I'll just. Stay here." They sniffle again, but it sounds more like they're getting a cold than they're crying.

S: "We'll build a little house around you." Sans is trying to laugh it off. "So you're warm. And all of us here in Snowdin can come visit. But not Dr. G." It wouldn't be that bad, right? They seem to like it down here. Sans likes it down here. What's the real need to get to the surface? Can't everyone live happily down here?

G:: The human sniffs again and picks at their fingernails. Their notebook is probably getting soggy..  
"Until you all find out I'm weird. And a crybaby. And I talk too much, and I'm not fun, and.. Everything else."

S: "Oh trust me, kid. We're just as weird as you." Sans grins at them. "Did you know I haven't washed my sheets in three months? And I fall asleep in the middle of.... everything, pretty much." He yawns, thinking about it. He was sort of jolted suddenly out of sleep by the call from the lab.... "That bunny at Grillby's cried for like an hour thinking about how snakes don't have legs."

G:: Their nose is turning red, and the human rubs at it with the back of a fist. It doesn't stop it from hurting.  
"You know, I thought I could come to the mountain to find out why people keep disappearing. And maybe.. I could go back, and be some kind of. Hero. But." They shrug again. "I guess. I'll just be another missing kid."

S: "You could be a hero down here." Sans is just talking out of his ass at this point. "We scientists are working hard to understand how to open the Barrier. But we've been working against, not with, humans. If we could all cooperate... if you could help us learn. I bet you could be a hero. Both here and up there." It sounds idyllic. It's probably not possible. "Or you could just get to be a kid. Go to school with Papyrus. He's pretty great, bet he'd like you."

G:: "Yeah. Maybe.. Maybe." The human stands, and there looks to be something like a jump in.. time? Place? Deja vu. They return to the same position Sans found them in, unmoving, and suddenly they just look so, so tired... "I think.. I'm about out of patience.."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for short chapters, I'll try to post the next few quickly. Should return to normal chapter length later.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stillness and silence. A meeting with the king.

S: It's disorienting for a second, and Sans wonders if something happened he can't see. Like maybe everything... twitched. Changed. Or everything was the same, all over again. That tiredness on their shoulders, that weight on their back. They're so small, to look like they've given up so much hope.....  
"Hey. Don't talk like that." He doesn't know how much they've done, how long it's been... (the chronoscope would tell him, wouldn't it? But he can't go check. Not now.) He trudges through the snow toward them, hands stuffed in his pockets, breath little clouds in the cold.  
  
G:: "You don't have to be here, if you don't want to be.." The human rubs at their elbows and trudges towards the woods. They only get a few steps before the darkness coalesces and spreads out black.  
  
"Come away, o, human child." Gaster has found them.. "I will not bore you with the rest." Oh god, what happened to his face?  
  
S: What is- Sans feels the spike of fear, sharper and newer and rawer than before.  
_It's a performance._ Sans remembers the last human. The hands, fanning out in the dark, the gathering blackness. This time, though.  
This time.  
"Doc, we really don't have to do this." How many times has he said this? How many times has the human listened to this exact speech?  
  
G:: The human stops, knee-deep in the snow, shivering.  
  
"What a tired old thing to say. Isn't that right?" They nod a little and sniffle, and Gaster mirrors their nod. When he speaks now, his fricatives come with an extra hiss. "One last time, just for prosperity's sake."  
S: Sans hates this.  
  
He hates that he knows this (must) be the last time, mustn't it?  
So he's only got one more shot. The crackling darkness in Gaster's speech, the way he wavers. The little human's weary shoulders.  
  
"I don't think we need this soul." He can feel the deja-vu in his own words, the echoes of having said them a hundred times. "I mean, it's really a bother, isn't it?" Echoes still. He gets tired of the sense of deja vu, sighs, closes his eyes. Goes off-track with it. "I just keep trying. Thinking, maybe, this time, I can do something that's good. Doc, _please_ ."  
  
G:: Gaster clicks his teeth together. It's loud and echoes around the snowy clearing, rebounding back on the three of them.   
"You know as well as I do we cannot let it live."  
  
S: "Says you." Sans breathes out a sharp little huff, breath curling in front of him. "C'mon, doc. We're already this close to synthesizing everything we need. What's one soul? We're about to change _everything_ ."  
  
G:: "The implications of two..  _time travelling forces_ existing at once are too unstable. All of the work we have done could very well be for nothing, so long as it lives.. No. We need this soul." The dark grows as Gaster approaches. The human doesn't even seem afraid of him anymore, they make no move to run or back away.   
  
S: "We don't, do we?" Sans still cowers a little. Mark of a weakling. Gaster looms like something awful. He hates this. He still sort of steps in front of the kid.   
"We can do it all on our own. Reset everything, make it better. We don't need them, Gaster. We don't. Look, they're- they're just a kid , they haven't hurt anyone."  
  
G:: It's the only thing that gives him any pause, seeing Sans step forward like that. He looks.. disappointed, but it's hard to tell with the new cracks running through his skull.   
"War is fought on the backs of babes. You think no human ever killed a monster child? Ever ripped it from its cradle?" Gaster's mouth curls in distaste, and it's an ugly look. "They slaughtered us by the thousands, and you think they gave a thought to whose dust they trampled through?"  
  
S: "Yeah, but we're _better_ than that." The tremor in Sans' voice isn't easing up. Where's the monster he wanted so badly to hold, the monster who Sans saw in the shadows of himself? The one who was kind and compassionate, or tried so hard to be? "You're better than that."  
  
G:: Gaster actually rolls his eyes, his irritation thick and obscene. The short pause Sans gave him is apparently broken, though he doesn't move. The darkness around him creeps closer, instead, looking to envelope the whole valley.  
"Keep your soft heart, if it gives you the satisfaction. But do not stand in the way of what needs to be done."  
  
S: Something breaks in him, some last desperate thing, and he looks at Gaster for what feels like a long time. The deep cracks in his skull only have darkness behind them, the white of his bones is bright as the snow.  
Sans only moves so that he can grab the kid's hand and try to drag them away. "Come on, let's run, come on-"  
  
G:: There's the initial jerk of Sans pulling at them, but the human digs their feet into the snow. "No, I-" They swallow heavily, shaking their head.  
"It was right about one thing, Sans. You can leave if you like." His footsteps crunch in the snow until eventually they don't, until he's just walking atop his own blackness. "It may be better if you do."  
"I can beat him."  
Gaster pauses again, but this time it seems more to hold in a laugh, his fingers pressing against his teeth. "Oh?"  
  
S: Sans drops their hand, stunned still, skull spinning trying to figure out what to do.  
_I can beat him_ .  
But if they hurt him..... if he..... died ....  
Sans shakes his head and takes another step back. And another. Nothing he can do is stopping them from hurting one another, why's it like this?  
  
G:: "I figured it out. I figured.. _you_ out." They pull out their little notebook, soggy around the edges, and flip through its pages. "It's all here, I just.. I couldn't see it before. But I  _see it_! I can stop you.. for everyone.. for all the others! " The human is crying again, tears at the corners of their eyes, their breath puffing heavy white clouds in the air. The darkness snaps, consuming both the child and Gaster.  
  
S: There's a moment of crushing darkness where Sans is immobilized, shut out. Once he feels magic sizzling into the air, white hot in the dark, he knows the battle has begun and he's powerless to intervene. He can only observe.  
He doesn't know if he has the strength to observe.  
Sans is the worst, isn't he? What's the point?  
He feels his marrow ache, his teeth set. He should do something.  
He stays frozen.  
  
G:: It isn't long.  
Time and obsessive note-taking can only bring one so far. In the end, raw power will win. As it has won, over and over and over.  
There's a cry, like the beginning of weeping, cut off quick and violent. When the darkness recedes there is.. red.  
Red, red, red, and the soul so violet right at the center of it.  
  
S: It's a Rorschach on the snow, bright and jarring, and Sans can't seem to pull his eyes off the mess. Somehow so much worse than dust. Monsters return to ash. Humans, they leave.  
This.  
The first one didn't seem so messy. The first one, Sans helped hide, didn't he?  
There's heat in his eye sockets, foreign and painful. He thinks it might be tears. He scrubs the back of his hand quickly across his skull, turns away from the mess. "Satisfied, Gaster?"  
  
G:: There's red on him, too. And on the bundle tucked against his chest, one arm supporting it. The human looks even smaller now, crumpled. With his other hand, Gaster collects the soul in his palm. It just barely sits in the hole there.  
"You can act dejected all you like. The fact remains that it must be done."  
  
S: He's not even wrong . The king decreed it, the fate of monsterkind depends on it. What would happen when they got tired of being trapped down here? They tried to.... they tried some things before. Things Sans is glad he can't remember. What if they decided to take a monster's soul and cross the barrier? What if....  
They just look so _small_ .  
  
Sans breathes out, shaky. Everything feels numb and achy. Maybe the cold. "I know. There wasn't any other way."  
  
G:: "There's a good boy." Gaster makes no play at trying to avoid the splotches in the snow. He simply steps through them, unworried and unbothered. "Take this back to the lab. I will be with all of you shortly, and we can get back to work." His expression seems permanently skeptical now, but... It may just be the new droop in his eye doing that.  
  
S: Sans feels empty and tired. He nods, obedient as ever. That's all he'll ever be, isn't it?  
He takes the Soul in careful hands, swallowing the weird catch in his throat. It's small and delicate and he doesn't want to risk damaging it by jumping, so he takes the long way to the lab.  
Maybe he needs the time, too.  
He apologizes to it, not that he thinks it matters at this point. _Another missing kid_.  
  
G:: The lab is dead quiet until Sans actually comes through the door, and even then there's a hushed kind of awe for several minutes. They don't have a new container for the new soul, so Bikeaby clears a space on the main table for it to rest.  
Kenny is the first to break the silence, their hands wringing and energy nervous. "You're okay? I mean, both of you? You're both okay?" Seems Gaster hasn't made it back yet.  
  
S: Sans sits the soul down a little more gingerly than he has with any of the others. He grins at everyone, but it's probably as hollow as his skull.  
"Gaster's okay. Sort of. I don't know what he did, he's got a little." He gestures vaguely at his face. "You'll see it. But he's okay."  
  
G:: "Sans? You're not looking too hot." Bikeaby's ears are laid down flat, maybe still sensitive from earlier in the morning. "Are you okay?"  
  
S: Is he okay?  
_No. I just watched Gaster kill a kid who hadn't hurt anyone, and I stood by and didn't stop him._  
 _No, I don't know if I can do this anymore._  
 _No, I still don't know if it was even the wrong thing to do_.

... "Yeah. I'm okay. Tired." Sans goes to make himself a cup of coffee so he can be alone in the lab kitchenette.  
  
G:: Bikeaby is entirely unconvinced, but fearful hesitation holds him back from following. Well... They have another new soul to sequence.   
"I guess I'll just... start on this one, huh?"  
Kenny snaps out of whatever spell they've been put under and moves to help as well. The lab looks normal again. How it feels is an entirely different matter.  
  
S: Sans stays in the kitchenette for too long trying to regain his composure. He's lucky he can't come back flushed or red-eyed. As long as he's dry no one will suspect anything is up. So he takes his time, drinks his coffee, finally manages to make it back in.  
The lab feels bad. Really bad. The quiet is far too much. He finds himself hanging around Bikeaby more than usual, just kind of... shadowing. When is Gaster coming back...? Maybe he can leave before then....  
  
G:: It's another hour before the doctor comes back, and it certainly doesn't help anything,  
"Oh my god, what did they _do_ to you?" Kenny is precisely as horrified as Gaster expected they would be. It's... just as irritating as he thought it would be.  
"Get off, get off, I am perfectly fine."  
  
S: "What the hell, doc?" Even Jawbone is worried, big eyes fixed on the deep black of the inside of Gaster's skull showing through the cracks. He whirs by, checking for more damage. "It's not like you to let yourself get hit. Had to have been one impossibly powerful human..."  
Sans can't stomach it. He hunkers deeper over his work. "Human didn't do it. What'd you do?"  
  
G:: "Simple overexertion." Gaster waves it off like it's nothing. Maybe it is, to him.  
"Doc, your face.. I don't..."  
He shrugs, and it looks far more slack and relaxed than it should. Could be his new expression..  
"I will fix it later."  
  
S: Overexertion. He was damn near tearing space apart trying to find them when Sans was still with him. Sans doesn't doubt he kept on.  
_You could've stopped it all early on._  
Right, and done what? Killed the human himself? He doesn't have the guts.

...That's almost a skeleton joke. He claps a hand over his mouth to avoid laughing himself to tears.  
"Sans. Sans, hey. Earth to Sans."  
His head shoots up to look at Jawbone.  
"You really don't look okay, buddy. You sure you're alright? I know the whole human thing has to have been scary, but you're safe now."  
  
G:: With everyone's heads turned towards him, they can't see the look Gaster gives him from across the lab. "Yes, do tell us you're alright?"  
  
S: Sans could choke on it, how thick that disdain for him is.  
Well, he couldn't be golden boy forever, could he?  
"Fine. The human wasn't really a threat." To anyone.  
  
G:: "Mm." It could be the crack bisecting his teeth, but it nearly looks like Gaster is smirking. In any case, he seems fine without pushing the issue any further. "Nothing more than a hiccup in the way of progress. Back to work, everyone, we have a new factor to work in. With any luck, it will not set us back any longer."  
  
S: Sans will sit, and take it, and continue being the little lap dog he is.  
Except he doesn't, and he doesn't really even know what he's doing until he hears his coffee mug shatter on the floor, and then he's leaving the lab.  
_The hell am I doing?_  
Fucking up his life, apparently.  
_I was supposed to keep him from getting worse. I was supposed to keep him from killing the human._  
What fucking ever.  
"I'm going to Grillby's."  
  
G:: Kenny and Bikeaby are momentarily stunned into silence, and Gaster stops either of them before they can react.   
"Let him. That is alright. Sans has had a rough time today."  
"But.." Kenny doesn't go any farther than that, and Bikeaby seems content to keep his head down and pick up the shards of ceramic.

S: Sans takes the quick way to Grillby's because he can't really bear to be near the lab anymore. He has to force himself not to just... appear on his favorite barstool, has to make himself walk through the door and through the bar to get to it. He pillows his arms on his head and stays like that.  
  
G:: Grillby doesn't ask. He's sure he won't and can't entirely understand, so he will simply serve as silent bartender. His usual role.  
He makes Sans a burger and fries and a double shot of whiskey.  
  
S: Sans takes the shot first, and for a while that's all he wants. He makes himself eat what he can, but he orders another shot before he's halfway through the burger. Then another. Eventually he gets drunk enough to feel pretty much nothing but sleepy.  
  
G:: It takes a while, a long evening of drinking, but at some point Bikeaby comes to the bar. He assumes Sans is drunk for good reason and taps on the bar to order a shot for himself.   
"Hey, man. Fancy running into you here."  
  
S: Sans turns to look at him drowsily; god, Bikeaby is fuzzy. Or is that just fluff? He reaches out with an idle pat to confirm. Nope, fuzzy vision.   
"Didn't have to come all this way."  
  
G:: "What'cha mean?" Bikeaby shrugs and takes the shot. "I just came to a bar. Wanted to drink."  
  
S: "You live in th' fucking capital you nerd." Sans buries his face in his arms again. God, he's drunk. "It's cold out there."  
  
G:: "You don't have skin." Bikeaby props his chin in ine of his hands. "Hey, dude. What... happened?"  
  
S: Sans shakes his head and buries his head in his arms again. He can't figure out words to say about it. He waves a hand at Grillby as though somehow Grillby can explain it for him.  
  
G:: Grillby just pours them both another round, which Bikeaby accepts gratefully.   
"Your friend has the right idea here.."  
  
S: Sans makes a little pained noise into his arms and pulls his hood up. This is stupid. Stupid, stupid.  
"Gaster killed the kid. Like- he was supposed to. But they didn't hurt anyone."  
  
G:: "Kid?" Bikeaby takes his shot and eyes Sans' in consideration. "What kid'dja talking about?" He does steal a few of the untouched fries.  
  
S: "Human kid." Sans takes his shot before Bikeaby can. He can already tell he's going to have a hangover from hell.... Maybe he just won't go in tomorrow. Maybe he'll just stay in bed.   
"Human was just- a little one. A baby."  
  
G:: The color drains from Bikeaby's face, but he doesn't say anything. He looks sick for a second.. "Have... Have all of them been...?"  
  
S: "Kid said 'another missing kid'." So..... probably. Sans zips his hoodie up and pulls his arms inside it. He wonders if he can puke. He's never gotten drunk enough to find out.   
"They never hurt anybody."  
  
G:: It's quiet again. Seems to be quiet everywhere in the bar, but that's because it's starting to empty out.   
"Wait, but... All those deaths. All those deaths before couldn't have been from this kids, little babies." He may have peeked through Sans' files once or twice before. "There's no way human kids could have done that."  
  
S: "The one that fought Gaster was barely any bigger." The first one Sans saw. "A bigger kid, maybe, but. Still a kid. I don't know about the others. But the two I've seen were small."  
  
G:: "Jawbone saw one! We can ask him when we go to work tomorrow, we can ask about the human he saw." There's a bead of sweat darkening the fur at one of Bikeaby's temples. "We can ask, and he'll set it straight. They can't have all been kids, that's.." He scoffs, shaking his head, just barely assured.  
  
S: "I don't want to ask him." Sans tugs his hood down further. "I don't want to go in tomorrow. You didn't see it, Bikeaby. They didn't want to hurt anyone."  
  
G:: Bikeaby slides the next shot over towards Sans and claps him heavily on the back.  
"Hey, man, let's not talk about this huh? We can just.. drink and chill the fuck out."  
  
S: Sans nods, very small. He's already so drunk.... he should drink more. Keep drinking until he's happy again. That works, right? Being drunk makes people _fun_ . Sans can be fun again. And happy. He can be happy and fun...  
  
G:: "Hey? Hey, Sans, are you.." Bikeaby rubs a little, but the only thing under Sans' jacket is bone. "Are you okay, dude? I don't have to be here. If you don't want me."  
  
S: Sans scoots closer on his barstool to Bikeaby, wobbling a little since the action makes him poorly balanced. "Don't leave me alone."  
  
G:: "Whoa, hey, okay! I didn't say I was.."  
  
S: "Don't leave." He's weirdly choked up. "Sorry. Sorry, it's stupid. It's so stupid."  
  
G:: "I ain't leavin' buddy, okay?" Bikeaby puts his hands on the barstool and holds it level, worried Sans is going to tip himself over. "I'm staying right here, it's cool."  
  
S: Sans nods again. He's just gonna....scoot his barstool closer. If he can. He sort of ends up half in Bikeaby's lap, but he's bundled small enough to fit. It's cool.  
  
G:: Oh, okay. Bikeaby just kind of deals with it and sets his chin on top of Sans' skull instead. He smells like liquor.. Bikeaby really hope he doesn't leak.   
"S'gonna be okay, buddy."  
  
S: He kind of just stays like that a while. Maybe dozes off a little. He can hear Grillby crackling behind him, and the rise and fall of Bikeaby's breath is a decent enough metronome for his drunken sway.  
"It really won't be okay." He says it god knows how long later. But he doesn't much feel like following up. "Duwanna go home alone."  
  
G:: "I'll get you home."  
  
S: Sans nods against Bikeaby, letting his eyes close. He doesn't really care much what happens from here. He doesn't really care much what happens to him, specifically. He's failed at everything. Failed Gaster, failed the kid, failed himself. So he just sort of falls asleep on Bikeaby and decides whatever happens, happens.  
  
G:: Bikeaby manages to wrestle Sans home with a little extra help from Grillby and plenty of cursing and hissing. And he promised not to leave, at least not while the poor guy's drunk... so he winds up crashing on the couch until morning.  
When he manages to leave in the morning, hangover throbbing, he slides a piece of paper under Sans' bedroom door. It seemed easier than writing a text message, for some reason..  
_I don't know what the hell went on with the doc yesterday, but if it's got you so fucked up you should send word to the king._  
_Gaster ain't the top cat in the food chain, you know.  
_  
S: Sans stares dully at the note for a long time from where he's bundled on his bed.  
He's never particularly wanted to think of himself as a tattle-tale, let alone one who'd tattle on Gaster . Hasn't he always sided with his mentor over almost everyone?  
And- in all honesty- Gaster was just doing his job. He's tasked with collecting the Souls, and he collected it.

King Dreemurr doesn't seem like the type who wants uneccessary suffering, though.  
He sees Papyrus off to school before he takes himself to the castle. He makes an attempt to put on some (mostly) clean clothes and scrub the smell of liquor out of his teeth and bones.

* * *

  
There's a note that the king is in his garden, so Sans lets himself in. Asgore has never been particularly strict about needing an appointment. Open door policy.  
  
G:: The king is wide and tall and actually takes up the bulk of space in his garden, but he somehow manages to water his flowers and trim weeds without a single misstep. He sings to them, gently, in a throaty baratone. Some forgotten song that would have died out centuries ago if he hadn't been keeping it alive himself. It takes him a little while to notice Sans, but he does have awfully broad shoulders.  
"Ah, howdy! I didn't know I would have visitors today." When he turns around to meet Sans, his eyes are dark and the bags are deep and his smile is still somehow genuine.  
  
S: Sans has met Asgore Dreemurr in passing a few times. There was a little ceremony when he was given the position as intern to the Royal Scientist. There's every Gyftmas, when Asgore visits most of the kingdom. And he came to Papyrus' school once to lecture the class on the different parts of the kingdom.  
This far, though, he's avoided really _talking_ to the king. Certainly he's never expected to be here, talking to him.  
He looks as tired as Sans feels.  
"Your majesty." Sans hovers, awkward, in the entrance of the garden. "I, uh. I'm Sans. Dr. Gaster's.... uh. Apprentice."  
  
G:: "Yes.." Asgore doesn't sound as if he's struggling to remember. "I was told about you." He finishes up watering his flowers and sets his can at the edge of the garden. "I was thinking about having a nice cup of tea. Would you like to join me?"  
  
S: Sans grins weakly at him. There's the vague chirping of birds, audible somewhere in the distance. This close to the Barrier, he can almost feel the sun.   
"Yeah. Okay, a cup of tea sounds nice."  
  
G:: Asgore takes him back out of the garden and into his proper home. It's small and humble, not anythig like the glamorous mansion one would expect from royalty. The hearth is warm, and Asgore sits Sans down in the one chair before the fireplace as he goes on to the kitchen. Perhaps a nice Darjeeling today...  
In only a few minutes, Asgore returns with a tray of teacups and sugar and cream. "How sweet do you like yours, Sans? We can relax with a nice cup."  
  
S: Sans fidgets the whole time he's in the comfy chair, looking around the home. He doesn't feel like he belongs in spaces like this, so personal, so lived in. His home with Papyrus is one thing, but the intimacy of someone else's home is overwhelming.  
"Mostly cream. Actually, you can forget the sugar, just add cream till it's almost white." Strong bones, as Papyrus would say... "Nice, uh. Nice place you got here."  
  
G:: "Thank you! I quite like it myself." Asgore laughs to himself as if it was some kind of joke. He's very dadly that way. He spritzes the buttercups on his dining table with a water bottle before pulling up one of the chairs by the fireplace and wiggling his toes near the grate.   
"How's your tea? I may have scalded the leaves a bit, so hopefully it isn't too bitter."  
  
S: "I mostly drink coffee. Gotta admit I don't know a lot about tea." Sans takes a sip and kind of scalds his hard palate. Even all that creamer didn't cool it down....  
He runs the tips of metacarsals around the teacup. It kind of looks like one Gaster has back in the lab, come to think of it.  
"Listen. Your Highness. Uh, how... how well do you know Dr. Gaster?"  
  
G:: Asgore blows over the top of his own cup to cool it down a little before taking a sip. Yes, he definitely scalded this batch.   
"Well, golly.. Isn't that a question?" He hums gently to himself. "I don't suppose I know him now as well as I used to. But I did know him once."  
  
S: Sans nods absently, staring down into his tea. There's an errant leaf floating in it, and he picks it out. Burns his fingerbones.... Oh well.  
"What was he like? When you knew him? You've probably known Dr. Gaster longer than almost anyone...."  
  
G:: "Wingdin was... well, as much is the same as I think is different. He was very driven and curious, always looking for the next problem to solve. He always strove to discover what was best for monsterkind." Asgore wilts a little, just for a moment, as he remembers. "Very kind. Very kind.."  
  
S: _Where's your kindness now_?  
Sans nods again, breathes in the steam of his tea. It clears his skull, at least, and the awful hangover pounding in there. Why did he drink so much last night?  
Right, trauma.  
"I sometimes wish I'd gotten to meet that Gaster. The way he was."  
  
G:: Asgore stares down in his tea for a while before turning his eyes up to Sans. They're a little doey, and his pupils are odd.   
"Is that why you came here today?"  
  
S: Sans isn't really sure of the answer to that. He thinks about Gaster, about the human child. _Just doing his job_.  
"Kind of." He takes another sip of his tea, trying to clear away his hangover. "Can you tell me a bit? About him? What you remember?"  
  
G:: "To be honest, I am not sure what I could tell that you couldn't get by asking him yourself." Well.. Maybe that isn't really an option anymore. "I'm sure he told you all about the Core and his work involving that. And you are working alongside him now with the human souls. I'm afraid I'm not a scientist, I could not possibly imagine what would be important information to you."  
  
S: "Not science information." Sans looks up at Asgore, at the strange shape of his pupils, at the tired bags under his eyes. "Did he laugh a lot? Did he make jokes? Did he worry about people, did. Did he show mercy."  
G:: Asgore knew this was coming. He just thought he would, perhaps, have a few extra days, but. This is alright. Perhaps now is best.   
"He told me a bit about your research.. The things you're doing independently of the doctor and his team."  
  
S: Ah. Sans nods, short and sharp, looking at the hot surface of his tea. There are small ripples from his movements.   
"So he told you about the research." Well, there's that. "Sorry, Your Highness. I probably ought to formally present it to you when it's complete."  
  
G:: "I already know what it says." He dips a claw into his cup to stir his tea. It doesn't need it, he's already mixed in all the sugar and cream he needed, but there's the tiniest leaf floating on top that he feels compelled to remove. "I have.. known for a while what is happening to him."  
  
S: Something bubbles up in Sans, something ugly and tired, something achy.   
"And you've let it happen? You've just let him kill these - these."  
  
G:: The king deflates, all of his bulk and broadness slumping into some tired shape.   
"You would not remember, you are much too young. But my declaration of war against the humans was made out of anger and horror and grief. The anger was the strongest of these emotions, but when humans began falling into the kingdom.." He sighs heavily, from very deep in his chest. "My grief was all that remained in me. I found that I could not do as I had promised.. Wingdin, my dear friend, reached out and offered to bear the burden for me. So that I may mourn."  
He sounds as if he is mourning still, or perhaps that he has reason to mourn again.  
  
S: Sans sits forward in his chair, tea rocking on its saucer in his lap, dangerously close to spilling.   
"With all due respect, Your Majesty-" Or is it Highness? Fuck it. "Asgore, sir. That burden is destroying him. He- this most recent kid-" Sans thinks about all the red, and suddenly he's having a hard time speaking again. "This isn't fair."  
  
G:: Asgore's heavy brows draw together, and he shakes his head.   
"I think often about the other choices I could have made. Never saying those things I said. Refusing my friend's help.. But I do not know that I could change anything. I cannot imagine myself in a state to lead the kingdom, had I done what Wingdin has done. I cannot imagine myself facing down each human and coming back here to rule, changed the way he has been changed." The smile that spreads across his face is sad and makes him look far older. "How do you feel, suddenly learning your king is a coward?"  
  
S: _Like I want to shatter this teacup too. Leave a trail of smashed shit in every place where I feel wronged._  
 _Like Gaster deserves better, someone who wouldn't sacrifice him for their own fear._  
 _Like....._

"Tired." Sans doesn't really think he has any tears left. "This one was just a kid. Have they all just been kids? Every one of them?"  
  
G:: "Would you like to see them?"  
  
S: See them? "Do you.... have them? All of them? Just..... here?" Humans bodies don't turn to dust......  
  
G:: "So we can give them proper rites, one day. Come, I'll show you."  
  
S: Sans doesn't let his teacup clatter to the floor. He tamely sits it on the table, on its saucer. He follows Asgore, obedient and polite. Like always. He's so _tired_ .  
  
G:: Asgore takes him back towards the throne room, over the walkway with the Capitol so close, through the hall full of something so like sunlight, and down down down a set of stone stairs. Each coffin is closed tight, each labelled with the soul corresponding to the human. The flowers placed atop the violet coffin still hold their color, barely wilted, and the whole room looks as if it's been dusted recently. The king himself is silent.  
  
S: Sans' jaw feels tight.  
He's angry, angry and tired, and hurting and sad and achy and.  
He runs a hand over the lid of the violet coffin. There are seven, he realises.  
All kid-sized.  
"You realize you've broken him. Whatever was left. After this last one."  
  
G:: Asgore brushes an errant petal from the last coffin, open and waiting and empty. Everything is empty here.   
"Hence nothing remains, except for our regrets."  
  
S: Sans feels his voice, thick and choked and sad and angry.   
"They wanted to be a scientist. They couldn't have been older than ten. They were left handed. Everyone in Snowdin liked them. They kept notes of everything. I don't - understand - why everything is like this." But he hurts, and he's angry, and Asgore is there. "Gaster isn't ever, ever going to be the same. And they're dead, forever."  
  
G:: "Yes." There isn't anything else he can say to that. He didn't know those first few things, but he believes them to be true.  
  
S: He wants to raise his voice. He doesn't, drops it instead, soft and. Sharp.   
"Some king you are."  
  
G:: It isn't the first time Asgore has heard that. It very likely won't be the last, with how things go for him.  
That's alright. He cannot be angry with honesty. He suspects he cannot be angry much at all anymore. So he simply nods, instead.  
  
S: Sans lied, he does have a few tears left. He scrubs them away with the back of his hand, feels oddly childish for the gesture. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What is he supposed to do now? "What am I supposed to do now?"  
  
G:: How's Asgore supposed to answer that when he hasn't figured it out for himself?   
"Cope. In whatever way you can."  
  
S: "I'm not going to have anything left if things keep going. None of us are." Sans gives up and sits on the floor by the violet coffin.  
  
G:: "Hold on tightly to what you still have. Treat it with kindness. Love it with all your soul." Asgore drops a hand down to squeeze Sans' shoulder before heading for the door. "Stay here as long as you need." He climbs back up the stairs without another word, his head drooped low between his shoulders.

* * *

 

S: Sans' tea goes cold long before he comes back up. When he does, be nods stiffly at Asgore, mumbles 'your highness', collects his things and leaves. He winds up at the lab. Still hung over. Tired. He walks in wordlessly and immediately gets to work on his thesis.  
  
G:: Gaster looks pleased, for some reason, but he doesn't say anything. Bikeaby himself just utters a quiet 'hi,' before getting back to his work. Everything is still heavy and uncomfortable.  
  
S: It's a stuffy, uncomfortable work day. Sans excuses himself midway through the day to sit in the bathroom until his throbbing headache goes back down, and he finds out the hard way he can, in fact, get sick from his hangover- although there's nothing to come up, so he just dry heaves. He still works on his thesis until it's shutdown time, and as everyone is packing up he hovers til he can get a moment alone with Gaster.  
It's awkwardly silent for a while, then he finally speaks up.  
"I need to run some additional tests on you for my thesis work. Thought I might as well look at the damages from over-exertion while I was at it, if you haven't had them looked at yet."  
  
G:: "Mm, no. I am afraid there are not many I trust to take looks at me." Gaster has been feeling along the cracks since they first split his skull, attracted by a morbid curiosity. "Though I suppose I should."  
  
S: Sans goes cold and professional, as best he can, immediately slipping into work mode.   
"Right, well. Let's get you hooked up to the sensor first so I can take the readings I need, and then I can examine them, if you like." The cracks are deep and Sans can see right into his skull....  
  
G:: "Sans."  
  
S: Sans nearly flinches. He has the electrodes in his hands, ready to press to Gaster's skull. He takes a deep breath, feels his ribs rise and fall. "Yes, Dr. Gaster?"  
  
G:: "You're staring." This is, apparently, amusing.  
  
S: "I can see into your skull." A statement of fact. Sans sticks the electrodes to Gaster, tears his eyes away. "It's kind of disturbing."  
  
G:: Gaster slides a finger alongside the crack leading up from his eye, and then probes into it without second thought.   
"It is numb. So you needn't worry about hurting me when you get to it."  
  
S: It sends a weird shudder down Sans' spine, mostly horror. He's never probed into his own skull , the image sits weird with him. He starts up the sensor and pulls on gloves while it starts the reading, probing gently at the edges of the cracks.   
  
"When exactly did these happen? Was it from- you know- travelling too fast, or something else?"  
  
G:: "It was, apparently, an unforeseen side effect of jumping too much too quickly." Gaster tilts his head to point the cracks straighter at Sans and to watch him better. "I was simply following after you and the human, tried to jump, and.." He shrugs.  
  
S: "Last time I jumped too much while- tired, I remember developing a bad migraine." That's when apparently his eye was acting strange, too.... Sans grabs a penlight to shine into the crack. The inside of Gaster's skull is illuminated, bright white bone. The edges of the crack are clean, at least. Sans doesn't know if they're going to spread... "Did it hurt, at all?"  
  
G:: Gaster's pupils flash brighter, and the other crack pulls when he grimaces.   
"Oh, yes."  
  
S: He's definitely going to need to make sure they don't spread. He digs around until he finds the first aid kit and the butterfly bandages there. Well, they're for flesh, but they'll have to work on bone... Maybe he can use some plaster putty, later. The dot matrix printer is whirring away in the background, printing out the new readouts for Gaster.   
"How so? Headaches, dizziness? What did it feel like?" Cool and professional, even as he presses a curious fingertip into the uppermost crack.  
  
G:: "Like my skull was breaking apart, how else would it feel?"  
  
S: "Just wondering if there were other side effects." Sans withdraws his hands to prepare the butterfly bandages and starts sticking them near the thinnest ends of the crack. He'll mix up some plaster, he thinks, later. Plastering it should at least give the bone time to heal. "How about otherwise?" His voice falters for a second before he re-finds it, all business. "You'll be feeling different, I imagine. I'm going to need to- give you another survey. Try and measure the effects."  
  
G:: Gaster hums and grins, his mouth more stable where it's whole.  
"You know, it is the strangest thing. I have not felt so good in _ages_. "  
  
S: Good....? Well, he's not feeling any remorse.   
"If you could describe your emotional state for me in a few words, then?" He finishes the butterfly bandages on top of Gaster's skull and starts on the crack between his eye and his teeth. He presses into that, too, still curious. The split is clean, but it certainly affects his motion and speech....  
  
G:: "Ah.." Gaster's eyes close as if he is concentrating on the question. Emotional state...? Ah, not important anymore. Really, it was just getting in his way.  
"Focused."  
  
S: "Focused." Sans attaches the last bandage to Gaster and leans down to pick up the readout. "How do you feel about the team today? Last I checked, you were relatively annoyed with them. Us."  
  
G:: "Well, I know all of you aside from Kenny are stalling for time. For what reason, I have no clue."  
  
S: He seems so.... unbothered. Sans starts pinning up the readouts.   
"We could talk about the reasons, if you feel like it." He starts digging out Gaster's old readout, pinning it up and marking the comparison points. There's... a definite change.  
  
G:: Gaster laughs lowly, looking and sounding more relaxed than he has in a very, very long time.   
"I think I misled you there. I know why you are all stalling. I simply... do not care to acknowledge it."  
  
S: Ah. Sans keeps his eyes locked on the charts so he doesn't have to look at Gaster. He doesn't have a stomach to feel sick. But the echoes of that dry heaving earlier hit him, nausea and hangover and headache. "I failed you, then."  
  
G:: "Oh, you should not worry so much about that." Gaster removes the electrodes from his skull and sticks them back on their plastic. "I'm certainly not."  
  
S: "Of course you aren't." Sans pins at the points the data converges. If he takes the humans' baseline stats, he's almost positive that it'll match his equation.  
Great. Super. He should be overjoyed, right?  
Everything aches all over. Probably his hangover.  
  
"I'll draw up the survey in the morning, and we can compare your results to the last time we took it. I'm sure we'll have conclusive proof of my thesis when we compare the two."  
  
G:: "You already know." It's probably the closest thing Gaster has come to a bad emotion since yesterday. Normally, it might be something like.. sorrowful resignation. Now it's just a statement of fact.  
  
S: Sans stares down at a pin in his hands. He stays silent for a while, jaw and ribs feeling tight.   
"Yeah. I already know."  
  
G:: Gaster tries very hard, just for a moment, to feel some strain of remorse or worry or any amount of apologetic. Just as... a thought experiment, perhaps, or just for fun. He finds that he can't muster it at all, and somehow that suits him just fine.  
"Why did you run with that human?"  
  
S: "They were a scared kid." Sans doesn't even know if Gaster can understand what this feels like. "Younger than Papyrus. They hadn't hurt anyone. And... they trusted me."  
  
G:: "And do tell, whatever did they say to you to convince you of any of that?"  
  
S: "I picked it up with a basic measure of empathy. Don't guess you'd know about that." Sans is so tired. "I know what a kid looks like, regardless of species."  
  
G:: Gaster coos lowly and runs a finger down the length of the crack under his eye, ending on the sharp point of a canine.   
"Have you seen the timeline?"  
  
S: "I know they reset." Sans' teeth are set on edge by the scrape of bone on bone. "I didn't look at their timeline. It shouldn't matter."  
  
G:: "Is that right? I think we should take a look, just in case."  
  
S: "Fine. Show me the timeline." Sans throws his hands up, already worn down. "Show me whatever point you're proving to me."  
  
G:: Gaster takes Sans' hand because that was always something he seemed to enjoy and leads him into the main body of the lab. The chronometer spins lazily, counting along with the seconds. Gaster taps open the lower panel and pulls out a length of the readings.  
"Now, let us take a peek.. Oh! Would you look at that, Sans?"  
  
S: Gaster's hand in his feels colder than it ever had before, wronger. Well, Gaster hadn't mocked him like this when their hands were joined before, either.  
Still.  
He expected maybe five, six hours of time discrepancy. Ten, eleven on the higher end.  
This is notably much more than that.  
"Alright." He sounds so tired, even to himself. "I get it."  
  
G:: "Do you?" Gaster is sharper, somehow, no more brittle bones and slumped angles. He is... wrong, and he knows he is wrong, and that's just alright with him. "Because I think you are still sulking."  
  
S: "I'm not still sulking." He's _hurt_ . And hurting. Gaster still has his hand, and he pulls it away. "I watched you slaughter a kid. I'm not going to be alright overnight. Justified or not." And he hates that it is justified.  
  
G:: Something actually does flare up for just a second. Not anger, no, Gaster cannot properly call it anger. It is, instead, an overwhelming need to be right.   
"Listen close." A hand darts out and catches Sans by the chin, and Gaster leans down close to murmur to him. "Do not let that little thing fool you. All that energy spent, all those different tries, were all ended by me. Every single time, every battle crafted to lead that little beast to its death here, in this way. You need something to lift your spirits? Rejoice in the fact that every other version of me led the human here to choose this death, where no one you love is fertilizer."  
  
S: He's right. He's right, and Sans' jaw aches where he's gripped by, and his eye sockets well up for a second and he has to blink it back. All of it, everything that threatens to spill over.  
You don't think about how many emotions you feel until you look right into the eyes of how you'd be without them.  
He nods, sharp and shaky, squirms out of Gaster's grip. He's more afraid than anything else.   
"Sorry." Seems to be all he can manage to say.  
  
G:: "Go home. And rest this time." Gaster folds everything away neat and proper, as if they'd never come in here. "Our schedule for training has to double down, with progress moving so quickly. We will not have time for it after going back."  
  
S: _No one you love is fertilizer_. Except what does that matter if they're all going to cease to be after Gaster changes everything? Sans feels small and weak and helpless. He couldn't save the human. Couldn't save Gaster. Now he doesn't know how to save Papyrus, Grillby- the whole underground.  
He doesn't even know how to save himself.  
"Right. See you in the morning."  
Maybe he'll just give up altogether. Stay in bed the rest of his life.  
  
G:: "And Sans?" He looks strange, his face in shadow and the massive machine churning away behind him. "You should not worry so much. You're still my favorite."  
  
S: _What's it like, for something you want so bad to feel so wrong_? "Thank you, Dr. Gaster." Sans leaves the quick way, no need to delay going home and crawling into his bed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bikeaby learns a few things. Sans learns further how to use the blasters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken a bit to get the next parts together, as I'm quickly approaching the point where we'd like to make changes. However, in the gap, I also made a playlist to accompany this fic- you can listen to it [here](http://8tracks.com/misterbeyond/the-darkness-got-a-hold-on-me). 
> 
> Thanks for the patience, everyone.

G:: Sans is only home for a few minutes before Papyrus comes to knock on his door. Instead of just barging in, of course, like a miscreant.

S: He scrubs one hand over his eye sockets, but he doesn't emerge from his blanket where he's burritoed.  
"Come in, Pap."

G:: It's a wreck in Sans' room... which is weird, considering he's barely been home.  
"Brother? I wasn't sure you were home at all."  
  
S: "Yeah, sorry, I was."  
Where was he?  
"Asleep. You okay, Pap? You almost never come in here...." Sans scoots some dirty socks into a corner with his foot.

G:: "Of course! The great Papyrus is... great! Which is to be expected, of course."  
He can't bring himself to take a seat on Sans' bare mattress, so he finds a semi-clean spot on the floor instead.  
"So. How is Sans?"

S: How is Sans? That's a real good question.  
Checklist time.  
"Still got both arms, both legs, both eyes, and a real great smile." He pokes his feet out of his blankets as if to demonstrate. "Got coffee earlier. Got a whole pile of socks over there. Pretty average Thursday."

G:: Papyrus huffs and lines up the soles of his feet.  
"Okay, but I didn't ask about what you _have_."

S: Sans wiggles his toes at Papyrus's, pinky to big toe. Papyrus's feet are bigger than his, when did that happen? Presumably when Pap got so tall....  
"I'm.... tired. Just tired."

G:: Papyrus wiggles his toes until one of them winds up locking with Sans', and he has to tug their feet apart.  
"You sleep all the time.."

S: Sans pulls his feet back into the blanket and tugs the blanket over his head like a hood. Ugh, his bed kind of smells like bed.... Washing sheets seems like a herculean effort, though.  
"Either sleep or at the lab, I guess." He yawns. "Sorry. I just get... tired. All the time."

G:: "Lazy bones."

S: Sans grins at Papyrus. It probably looks as wavery as he feels....  
"I'm hurt, bucko. You come into my domain, where I am very busy lazing, and call me lazy. Painful."

G:: "Your fitted sheet isn't even on your mattress right! You can't laze with your bed all messed up."  
He tries to get the nearest corner matched up again, but most of the sheet is wadded up under Sans.

S: "Oops, look at that." Sans foils Papyrus's attempt by pulling the fitted sheet around him, another layer to the burrito bundle. Oh man. He is so cozy.

G:: "Sans, whhhyyy?" He's just trying to help.  
"Come on, your room is stinky.."

S: "Ugh." It's true, though.... his room does smell. He shrugs off the sheet and throws it on the floor. He still needs to get out of the blanket....  
"Pap. You don't have to. Worry about me."

G:: "Worry?" Papyrus blows it off and steals the sheet Sans threw off before he can take it back.  
"I'm just trying to get this under control before it creeps out of your room and into mine."

S: "Oh come on. I don't even sleep in blankets in your room. I sleep on the floor." He has shoved a few socks between the couch and the wall, though....  
"The living room is clearly the next target."

G:: Papyrus grabs the edge of a blanket and pulls hard to yank it off of Sans.  
"Come _on_ , the laundromat is still open!"

S: UUuuugh. Sans rolls out of the blanket and onto his bare mattress, stares at his ceiling. Come on. Come on, muster up that energy. Come on come on. He sits up, rubbing the back of his skull.  
"Okay. Alright, yeah, let's go." He's upright and everything... Maybe he should wash some socks? He starts dumping handfuls of them into the bundle of blankets and sheets.

G:: Papyrus keeps him going long enough to bundle all his laundry together into a kind of sheet-sack and tie it off and to get all the takeout boxes into the trash. They set off in the snow to the mat under the Snowed Inn with enough gold pieces to get everything clean.

S: Sans is relieved to see that the laundromat is almost entirely empty. Everything smells like fuzz and detergent. He hasn't been here in ages.... The bunny who runs the inn wobbles down the stairs.  
"Hey guys. You all good? You need anything? My sister has some cinnamon rolls in the oven if you want one while you wash...."  
Sans snickers. "You say that, but aren't _you_ the one with the bun in the oven ?"

She snorts a laugh and drops a hand onto her belly. "Sans. Please."

"But seriously, I'm fine. Papyrus, you want one?"

G:: Papyrus almost looks a little guilty for a second, but he makes a decision he's happy with.  
"Can I come with you so you don't have to come down the stairs again?"

S: She clearly seems as relieved with that as he is. "Sure thing." She gestures for him to lead the way, waits till Papyrus is upstairs to murmur mischeviously to him.  
"Good, you can smuggle the whole tray downstairs for me, too. I'm trying not to eat any more, so you and your brother are going to have to get through a dozen for me."

G:: "Oh, wow..." Papyrus' eyes go starry as he follows her to wait on cinnamon rolls.

He comes back down fifteen minutes later with too-hot, just out of the oven rolls and a bowl full of icing, and sets both on a chair between himself and Sans. He's very tempted to just grab one, but he learned his lesson last time..  
"Miss Angora says anything sweeter than a piece of chalk makes her bloaty."

S: The baked goods are too hot to touch, but the icing isn't, and Sans immediately dips a finger into it despite saying he didn't want any. The shopkeeper bunny is a hell of a baker....  
"Guess she's having a regular bun, then, not a cinnamon bun." Okay, he reused a pun, but the versatility of that one is just too good.

G:: "What?" Papyrus kind of just wants to take a roll already... He tries to pinch off a piece but winds up nursing a burn. The washers are the only sound for a few seconds, it's unlike Papyrus to leave empty air. "Brother?"

S: Sans swipes another bit of icing off the edge of the bowl, and busies himself with it for a while. Finally he has no more excuse, so be answers.  
"Yeah, Papyrus?"

G:: He can't kick his feet anymore, and they sit pretty flat on the ground by now. His pants don't really go down as far as they need to, but if he wears the right shoes it looks like that's how they're supposed to be.  
"Do you have anyone you talk to, other than me?"

S: The question sticks in his throat a little. Papyrus has gotten so big. When did he get so big? He's more mature than Sans gives him credit for, sometimes.  
"Sure, I talk to Grillby sometimes. A little."

G:: "I might've lied a little earlier, about not worrying."

S: "Yeah, I know." And it's not like Sans didn't come home a drunk, emotional mess. He doesn't even really remember getting home...  
He stands to change some stuff from the washer to he dryer. "You're pretty great, Papyrus."

G:: One of the other washers goes off right after the first, so Papyrus takes care of that one.  
"Well.. I think you're pretty great, too. The whole town does."

S: Sans shrugs, forcibly easy.  
"It's only because the whole town has sat on a whoopee cushion I've stuck under em at some point. " He throws like three dryer sheets in with the load of blankets, because he wants his bed to smell awesome.

G:: "I guess, maybe..." Papyrus goes quiet for a few minutes. When he goes back to sit, the cinnamon rolls are cooled down enough to eat.  
"Miss Angora.. Uh, the _other_ Miss Angora. She asks about you sometime. I hope she doesn't want a date..."

S: Sans ends up essentially slathering his bun in icing. It's mostly a method of delivering icing into his mouth.  
"Me, too." She's a nice, responsible, pleasant, cute teacher. So.... waaay too good for Sans. "I think she probably just wants to make sure you actually have a responsible adult in your life." Which.... Papyrus does not. Not responsible, anyways.

G:: "Well, I'm taller than you, soooo..."

S: "OK, but I'm older than you, shrimp." Calling him 'shrimp' is fun because he's not a shrimp at all.

G:: Papyrus nyehs quietly and flaps a hand at Sans. There's icing on one of his fingerbones.  
"Says you."

S: "You can't debate that one! You were a baby bones when we first popped up and I was. Practically grown." Okay, he was a teenager. Taking care of a kid. But the point remains. "I've got a college degree, I get to be the older brother."

G:: "I could get a college degree."

S: "Yeah but I did it first. Also, you're still growing. I clearly am past my growth spurt, that makes me grown."

G:: Well... He guesses Sans has a point.  
"Nyeh... Well, you're the little brother now." Even though Papyrus isn't that much taller. Yet.

S: "I'm the older brother, you're the big brother." Win/win. He laughs and stuffs a cinammon roll in his mouth.

G:: "Yeah, okay. Deal." Papyrus sticks out his hand to shake on it, but he thinks better of it. Sans has icing, just, everywhere.

S: "You got some icing on you, buddy." Sans points out the one teeny speck stuck to Papyrus's knucklebone.

G:: Papyrus rolls his eyes and wipes it on Sans' hoodie.

The laundry tumble dries until Papyrus' bedtime gets close and he's near nodding off. The sugar crash is just coming on when the buzzers go off one after the other and they can go home.  
Doing laundry winds up making Sans' room smell a lot better, go figure.

S: It's the first time in a long time he's slept in a made up, clean bed. Sans pulls the blankets around him, sleepy and weary (to the bone). Papyrus conked out almost immediately, and Sans.

Sans sleeps.

He has nightmares, but he sleeps.

G:: When everyone comes into the lab the next morning, the violet soul is sequenced and synthesized already. It glows along with the five others, and Gaster is hard at work drafting up checklists and doing complex math for acquisitions.  
"You've been.. hard at work, doc?" Bikeaby looks to have lost a lot of his color over the past few days, and he's gone even paler now. Kenny doesn't look much better.  
"We are starting testing today. Nothing major, just a few seconds here and there."

S: Jawbone smells like liquor and is possibly still a little drunk. He stares dully at the bright array of souls and synthesized materials for a minute before making a beeline to the coffee pot without a word.  
Sans.... isn't much better. _Sure can't wait to distort reality_.  He kind of putters around with charts. "What do we need to prepare?"

G:: "Mm, hard to say. A fire extinguisher, possible?" Gaster looks up to them. His pupils are sunk deep from sleeplessness, but they're brighter than they would normally be.  
"What could be wrong with all of you? It isn't like anyone's died."

Bikeaby laughs a little pathetically before following Jawbone to the coffee pot.  
"Okay, so. Safety equipment, just in case. Is there anything else, doctor?"

"Well, it is difficult to say. As far as we know, humans can do this simply based on force of will. I highly doubt that will work for us."

S: "I don't know exactly how we'll be using it, just yet." Sans never really followed that. "Are we going to set up some sort of device to process it and use it in the way humans do...?"  
"We'd need some time to get that set up." It's the first time Jawbone speaks all morning, and his voice is rough. But a little hopeful. "We'll have to sync it to the frequencies and make sure it'll work with the different resonances."

G:: "Or drink this stuff and try to do it that way.."

Kenny sputters on their coffee, coughing. "D-doctor? I don't think-"

"Calm down, it was a joke." He still looks as if he could be considering it.

S: "Yeah, I only volunteer for that if we know it'll kill me." Jawbone is probably joking. Probably. Sans starts digging out safety equipment just in case.  
"Okay, so we need a device to access it. We could probably build something up, with a good design and idea of its functionality...."  
"We'll have to test it in a controlled setting. We can't just go feeding dangerous substances into something like that."  
"Right."  
"Or the doc could drink it."

G:: Gaster's mouth splits in a toothy grin. The bandages Sans put on him are gone, they probably weren't doing any good anyway. "Is that an endorsement?"  
"Please don't drink this stuff, doctor."  
"You worry too much, Kenny, really."

"I gotta agree, doc, we don't know what it'll do to you.."  
"Later, then! Later, when we are not so busy. We should get to work, hm?"

S: "You.... really shouldn't, doc." Sans didn't expect the giddy lack of self-concern. The scientist in him wants to make a note of it. The rest of him .... misses Gaster. The way he was. Anger and all.

No time to think about that. He's too tired to be sad.

"Alright, well, JB, should we draw up some schematics? We'll need to rip a few components out of some old stuff down in the basement... I think we've got a few parts I can salvage..."  
"If you and Bikeaby start salvaging parts, me and Kenny can work on schematics. I've gotta figure out how we can run something that needs that much power without overloading the whole lab...."

G:: Gaster shrugs, "Why worry about the lab? Just pipe power directly from the Core."  
"I mean... There's no reason that shouldn't work."  
"That is why I brought it up, you know."

S: "I ... guess it'd work, yeah." Jawbone furrows his brows. "Alright, well, now I have to start the schematics for pumping power up from the core and the machine."  
"Yeah, yeah. We'll get to scrapping." Sans waves a hand at Bikeaby. "After you."

G:: Bikeaby isn't at all excited, but he comes along fast enough after Sans. He waits until they're deeper into the guts of the lab and there aren't any security cameras before he stops them both in a hallway.  
"Hey, dude.." It looks as if he wants to say something but switches and decides to go some other route. "Hoow are yoou, uh. Holding up?"

S: Sans notes the hesitation but doesn't know what to do with it; they're all worn down, all dreading and anxious. He can let Bikeaby backpedal, if he's not ready to talk about whatever.  
"Bad, probably. S'whatever. I spent a long time with Papyrus yesterday." And tried not to treat it like a desperate cling to his last few days with him, or whatever you'd call it. "How about you?"

G:: "I'm, uh. I'm okay, I am." Bikeaby's hands are wrung tight together, his claws extending and retracting as he tenses and releases. "I asked Jawbone about that. Stuff we talked about."

S: Stuff? Oh, right, the stuff they talked about. Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets so that he doesn't fidget like Bikeaby is. The pull and push of his claws is strangely catching, kind of hypnotic, kind of makes Sans anxious.

"Yeah? What'd he, uh. Say?"

G:: "Oh, you know. You know what he said.."

S: "Yeah." Sans knows. "I talked to the King. He showed me the coffins."

G:: "I'm kinda. Freaking. Out."

S: Sans swallows, nods too.  
"Hey... c'mon." He takes one of Bikeaby's hands and squeezes. His claws slide out with the motion, clack against the bone of Sans' hand.

G:: "I just.." Bikeaby looks kind of limp and unfortunate. To be fair, all of them do. Save for Gaster, of course. "They were all, just, little kids. Every one?"

S: "Yeah." Sans finds himself retreating further into his jacket, save for the hand squeezing Bikeaby's. "The one I. The one I helped Gaster- and the." He shakes his head. "A lot of little coffins."

G:: Bikeaby takes a deep breath and holds it for as long as he can, his chest puffed out. He starts getting a little dizzy before he lets it back out in a rush.  
"We're gonna die up there, aren't we?"

S: "I'd rather die than be like that." Sans shrugs a shoulder to point back to the lab. "To survive we'd have to. Have to..."

G:: "Fucking children, man, little kids." Bikeaby's keeping his lid on for now, but who knows how long that will last. "Little kids can kill us so easy.."

S: _Unless you blast them until they're a smear on the snow._  
"Gaster wants to-" He gets stuck for a second, can't finish his sentence. "Gaster wants to wipe them off the planet, you know that?"

G:: "Like we could?" The panic Bikeaby is actually feeling creeps into him for a second, turning his voice high.

S: Sans squeezes his hand again, a little too hard. "Shit, I don't know, B. I guess after the first one, it...." Sans shakes his head. He doesn't feel good. He doesn't feel good. "Let's just take off. Let's- let's not- we can just quit, right? Gaster can't finish if we quit."

G:: "Oh, sweet, I love the possibility to being tried for treason! What an awesome plan, asshole!" Bikeaby's voice is echoing down the hall, and he has to reel himself in to keep from freaking out even harder. "Oh, god damn it."

S: Sans recoils hard enough to shove his hand back in his pocket, his uneasy grin getting wider. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"C'mon. Stay with me. Don't- I just." Shit, what? "I don't want this either. I don't- know what to do."

G:: Bikeaby flattens down his ears with his hands and backs into a wall.  
"Fuck, I'm sorry. I need.." He slides down until he's on the floor, his knees close to his chin. "I just need to sit here a minute, okay? Just gonna sit here a minute, and then I'll be just fine, yeah."

S: Sans hovers for a second, staring away, awkward. "Do you want me to stay? Or, um. Give you space?"

G:: "I don't know." Bikeaby takes another shaky breath and brings his hands together to wring.  
"No, no. Okay. Okay, I'll be fine, you know. I'll be just fine in a sec." He motions deeper into the lab. "I'll be down in a minute."

S: "Okay..." Sans is nervous to leave him alone, but he's more nervous to crowd him if it's going to freak him out. He swallows and murmurs, "I'm just down the way, okay?" before shuffling down the hall.

There's a lot of discarded equipment under the lab; Sans has more than once savaged bits and pieces of it for his own work. He plops down on the floor and starts picking through it; at the very least, unscrewing panels and poking through electronics makes him feel at peace.

G:: It takes a while, but eventually Bikeaby is calm enough to get to work. He properly apologizes for freaking out, lowly and under his breath, before getting to work with Sans.

Its hours, and when they come back up with boxes of scrap, there are schematics waiting. Gaster is eager to get everyone to work, just as he's eager to get everyone out the door. Well...

Almost everyone. He concedes on something in his own mind. "I trust all of you will continue on if I step out for, oh... several hours?"

S: "We'll plod along." Jawbone is clearly coming down off his 'still-drunk' and into 'hung-over', but he's delivered on the schematics. He's still adjusting things on the fly, though- (Not a bad plan, Sans concedes, to buy them a little time, even if he's actually making it more effective.)

"Yeah." Sans' fingerbones ache from pulling wires and gadgets out. He's nursing his third coffee, still jittery, and working close to Bikeaby. "We'll be... fine." He worries about Gaster going off on his own, though.... God knows what he'd get up to now...

G:: "Oh, I know you will be." Gaster curls a finger at Sans to coax him over, a grin spreading. "You will be coming with me."

Both Bikeaby and Kenny look skeptical if Sans actually will be fine if he goes along with whatever the doctor will be doing. Kenny is the one to speak on it, though. "What is it.. the two of you will be doing?"

"Well, if I wanted you to know I would have told you, wouldn't I?" Ass.

S: Sans goes still for a minute, at the grin, at the taunt.  
_Blaster training, probably._  
He still swallows and scrubs a bead of sweat off his browbone with the back of his hand. He finishes sautering a circuit before he rises, gives the others an uneasy grin. "Guess I'll be back in a while, then. See you guys."  
_I hope, anyways._

G:: Gaster waves to them all before dropping his hand to Sans' shoulder and leading him back towards the elevator. He doesn't jump for a good while for no discernible reason. He's humming, gently and softly.  
"You know, Sans, I think I have finally decided not to be angry with you anymore."

S: Sans wants to shrink away from Gaster's hand, but he doesn't. He lets it sit, wrong as it feels, because everything aches and he misses how things were and he just.  
He just wants Gaster back.  
"Decided, huh." More like he no longer can feel angry. No looking a gift horse in the mouth.... "I. Well, I'm glad for that."

G:: "Good! I worried about it."

S: "Did you?" He tries not to sound hopeful. But maybe he does, a little. "I'll be... I'll be okay." Somehow.

G:: "Well.. In whatever capacity I can worry about it, now," Gaster shrugs and folds them into the training spot and starts lighting up mushrooms.

S: Sans was here last with...

Hm.  
He feels kind of queasy.  
And so much for his hopes that Gaster was feeling much of anything. Well.... at least he's not feeling angry. There's that.  
"I don't suppose you can particularly be too angry with me, either. Silver linings, right...." He laughs, dry and sad.

G:: "Silver linings are usually reserved for people who can actually see the clouds." Gaster shrugs again before turning to study Sans from toe to tip. "Are you angry with me?"

S: Angry? "I was." He might as well be honest with Gaster now. What does he have left to lose? What does he have left, at all...  
"I'm not so much anymore. Just sad."

G:: His face actually screws to one side in something like disappointment.  
"It may have actually made things a bit easier for you, had you held onto that anger. No matter, we will figure it out."

S: Of course. It's all about the weapon, it all comes back to it. Sans tries to muster up the energy to be mad that Gaster only cares about it. But that would feed right into what he wants, wouldn't it?  
"Yeah. I'm sure we will."

G:: "Please contain your excitement, Sans, you know I can no longer relate to it." It is perhaps one of the most morbid jokes Gaster has ever told.

S: The worst part is Sans laughs . It catches him off-guard, and he chokes on the laugh, startled, kind of in pain. Shit.... He clears his throat and looks away. Gallows humor. He can relate.

G:: "There's my boy." Seeing Sans mope around has actually been just the slightest twinge irritating. "Now. Are you ready to get to work?"

S: He nods, quiet again.  
Hates that's all it takes to get him obedient again. _My boy my boy my boy_ echoing around in his ribs like a desperate mantra. He's lapping up what scraps he's given and asking for more, a starved thing eating trash.  
"Yeah. I almost had it last time."

G:: Gaster scoffs none too gently. "I would not advise you get ahead of yourself just yet. The fetal thing you pulled up last time was nowhere near a true blaster. But it was a start."

S: _So much for the praise._ "A start's a start." Who knows if he'll ever be able to summon the full thing....  
Maybe, when Gaster drags him back, he'll let a human kill him.

By that point, he'll deserve it.  
He reaches out to try again for the blaster. Remembers the jerk of fear, the flash of teeth.

_The smear of red on the snow._

G:: Gaster clacks his teeth together. The wisp of bone Sans manages to conjure up is even less solid than the first, just a smeer of teeth and white before fading almost immediately.  
"Now you can do better than that."

S: "I don't know if I can." He feels worn down from just that....He tries again, but all he can think of are empty coffins and broken little bodies.  
This time it's barely a wisp of white, shimmering like dust in air, and then it's gone gone gone, leaving him emptier, spine aching.

G:: "Mmf." It's a sound bordering on bored, maybe even toeing the line. Gaster comes up behind Sans and presses two fingers against the section of spine the implant is drilled into.  
"You are thinking too much. It is not about thought, simply action."

S: It feels tender and raw where Gaster touches him, even through clothes, and Sans jolts. His teeth grit and his fingers curl tight.  
"I have to think, I can't stop thinking."

G:: "You can, and I know you will." Gaster straightens Sans out of the slump he's taken and claps a hand on his shoulder. "Again."

S: _I can't, I can't use this thing, I can't kill anyone, I'm scared._  "Again." He feels the lurch in his spine and the hollow where his gut would be. It's a little stronger this time.

G:: Gaster huffs out a startled little ah! and squeezes Sans' shoulder.  
"That is more like it! Much more solid. Again, Sans."

S: _Can't wait to cease being his favorite and be a huge disappointment to him instead._ Sans' teeth grit so hard his mandible aches. He pulls it back, sheer concentration, holds it long enough for its jaw to split. It vanishes in a hurry before anything further.

G:: "Incredible. Incredible, I knew you could do it." It's strange that Gaster feels close to nothing, and yet somehow elements of emotions keep creeping into his voice. Touches of excitement, boredom, wonder. Pride is missing. But he can play at pride well enough, he knows what it looks and sounds like. And Sans responds well to it, the most important factor.  
"I knew making you my apprentice was the right decision."

S: It's bad, so bad, all Sans wants is to crawl into his arms like his fucking lap dog, lap up the praise, the affection. He isn't even sure how much of it is real .  
"Thank you." His voice is quiet. He tries again, even though the repeated effort has sweat beading on his browbone.

G:: It's a little weaker than the one before, not quite as solid, but it stays around for just as long. Gaster hums low, tuneless, and swipes his own sleeve across Sans' forehead.  
"Again."

S: Sheer repetition makes the motions necessary to summon it a lot easier to mimic. That same simulated fear. Genuine, even, when Gaster brushes sweat away from Sans and he realizes just how bad he still clings to those affections.

"Again." This time its jaw splits and there's the rumble of something building. It fizzles out before it fires but he can feel the crackle of white hot light in his teeth.

G:: "That's it, you are very nearly there."

S: He's short on breath and kind of exhausted from the effort, sweat on his browbone. _I can't I can't I can't I can't -_  

One more desperate try, and it rumbles, and its white teeth flash, and there's crackling light and smoking rock, and it's gone, all at once, and his knees are weak.

G:: "Yes!" Gaster is nearly shouting in Sans' ear, though he doesn't have any.  
"Sans, Sans, that was beautiful! Oh, this is. This is wonderful, I never dared to dream-" He seems genuinely overwhelmed for a moment, and he grabs Sans under his arms to lift him. They spin just once before Gaster abruptly drops him back down and rushes to check the damage to the cave wall.

S: Sans is laughing, disbelief at himself, at Gaster's reaction, at the fact that he did it , at the fact that he feels.... happy? Excited? Caught up in euphoria, dizzy from Gaster twirling them around.  
"I didn't think it'd - I really didn't think I could , but look-"

G:: Gaster takes a look at the crater left. It isn't very impressive compared to his own, not yet, but it's incredible progress.  
"Definitely shallow, a bit aimless. Tss.." He yanks his hand back from the melted stone. "Hot! So you are getting the hang of it."

S: "I didn't expect it to actually." Sans gets stuck looking at the melted stone, the steam rising off it.  
Red smear across the snow.  
But Gaster, so elated, so eager and happy, even if he can't feel anything else.... "I really can, huh?"

G:: "Of course you can!" Gaster's grin is just slightly off, interrupted as it is by the crack bisecting his maxilla. "When have I ever been wrong?"

S: The thing is he's never outright been wrong. No one is. That's what makes it so shitty. Sans laughs, soft, pathetic. Shuffles to where he's close enough to stuff his hand in Gaster's, just to steady himself. Pretend it's like old times.  
"Well, you are the genius."

G:: This again? Well, alright, he supposes he can allow it.  
"That I am. So you should trust when I make decisions." Not that Sans has acted particularly untrusting, aside from the one mishap with the human. Not outwardly, anyway, but Gaster can feel the rumbles of dissent in his lab. He will need someone on his side when the quake finally hits, and he can no longer trust Kenny to stand for him.

S: Sans flinches, a little, and he squeezes Gaster's hand a little tighter. All the affection in the world doesn't stop all that dread and fear welling up in him.  
"It's not so black and white, doc. There are- I know it's hard for you to see right now, but there are a lot of factors at play. I trust you. And it's for the good of monster kind. But it's going to.... hurt, leaving everyone we love behind."

G:: "I have seen every possible angle, Sans, I assure you." His high point is immediately gone, squashed by such an old and tired argument. Gaster drops himself down to one knee in front of Sans and holds one hand in both of his own.  
"And I need you for this. Really and truly, I cannot do this without your help." His mouth curls to one side. "Well, alright, that is not exactly true, but I would rather not do it without you."

S: Sans wants.... He wants.... He's sad and desperate and messy and he hates that he falls apart so easy. His free hand curls at Gaster's cheekbone, thumb running over the deep split of bone.  
"I want- I want to be beside you on it. I'm trying. It's just hard. I'm just scared." And alone.

G:: Gaster huffs a little, maybe a laugh. "Scared? Of success?"

S: "No." Sans is so tired. How can Gaster understand? "Everyone who cares about me is back here." Aside from Bikeaby, who honestly may not make it, and.... Gaster. If he counts. Does he? If you can't feel anything, you can't really care about someone.

G:: "I suppose that is... understandable." Not at all. It's a fairly foreign concept to Gaster, and that isn't a new development. "Letting go of the individual can be.. difficult. But sometimes the small fear must be abandoned in favor of something better for everyone."

S: "I'll have... you." It's soft. Sad. Sans knows in his heart that Gaster has always lived by that. Would he have killed that first human for the King, if he didn't? He's sacrificed himself again and again to protect the kingdom. He's never even let himself get close to anyone, for the good of monsterkind.

But Sans is so small and so weak and so selfish. "I guess. Presumptuous, aren't I?"

G:: "A bit. But I cannot imagine where else I would go."

S: "You could decide you're tired of me pining and leave." Seems more and more likely with the last of his empathy gone god knows where. And Sans will let him down. He already has, and he will continue to.

_Even if he had feelings, he wouldn't feel the same, anyways._

G:: Gaster twitches and scrapes his teeth over the last knucklebone of Sans' thumb. He's grinning when he stands back up.  
"We should get back to practice, mm?"

S: It sends a shudder all the way down Sans' spine, and guilt follows it in a much slower creep. All of this, and he's still being ruled by his thirst?  
Wow. He's... the worst.  
"Yeah." He shoves down the tremor in his voice. "Back to practice."

 

G:: It lasts a long time. Eventually Gaster joins in to serve as an example, and the cave wall is crackling and smoking from their combined efforts. Hopefully it's thick so they don't punch through into someone's house. "You have made wonderful progress today, Sans. This is more than I initially dared to hope."

S: Sans nods, small, daring to smile (like an idiot). Everything aches and he's exhausted, worn to the bone by the effort of summoning the blaster again and again, short of breath and sweaty. He more or less has the hang of it, though- at the very least, it's far more substantial than he'd thought himself capable of, and the scorch marks on the wall are a standing testament to even this weaker version's destructive power.

Enough to kill a few humans, he guesses. Before he dies. There's no way he wants to survive afterwards.

( _When did this become a real plan_? )

"I never thought I could do it, either."

G:: "Oh, I would not say I didn't think you could do it. It is.. hard to explain." Gaster hums and sits on the largest toadstool, his favorite. "I had faith in you before, that you could do it. More recently.. I simply knew."

S: "Ah." Sans hovers for a second, perching on the toadstool next to him finally.  
"May be a morbid line of questioning to go down, but.... are most things... like that now? You just... know?"

G:: Gaster shrugs. "Self-doubt seems behind me, now."

S: "What's it feel like? If you can... describe it." Partially the scientist in him. Partially fear. He doesn't want to stop feeling.

G:: "Like." He takes a long series of minutes to gather his thoughts and pinpoint exactly how it feels. It's slippery and seems so unimportant.  
"Like I am not quite myself anymore. Like... I have detached from my own body, though I can still control it. Hmph.. I cannot properly describe it."

S: It sounds terrifying, honestly. Sans tries not to say that, though.  
"I know you said you don't... care, but." He folds and unfolds his hands in his lap. "I keep thinking I can find a way to put you back. To how you were- not just when I met you. Before all of it."

G:: Gaster hums inquisitively to himself, his gaze distant for a bit. After a while he taps a knuckle gently against Sans' cheekbone.  
"Do not worry yourself too much. I feel better than I have in... ah, a long time."

S: "Does it count if you feel like you're outside yourself?" Sans thinks it's a little skewed to count that as 'better'. He still runs his hand over the spot Gaster touched. "You'll probably get irritated to hear this, but I spoke with the King, briefly."

G:: "I knew you would."

S: "He told me. Why you killed the humans for him." It's a kindness that seems foreign now, but.... "I'm sorry."

G:: Gaster scoffs gently. "Oh, I doubt he told you why I do it." And frankly, the apology is unnecessary.

S: "He said you took on the burden. So he wouldn't have to." That's why, isn't it? "Or are your motives different?"

G:: "Mm.. No, those were my motives at the time." He can't exactly pinpoint his motives now. Perhaps he just likes it.. The drama, the rush, the inevitable result. Maybe he even enjoys the changes it brings about in him. Gaster certainly doesn't have any complaints now.

S: "It was very selfless."

G:: "I did not know the toll when I took on the task, so I cannot put much stock in how selfless an action it was."

S: "No, I guess not." Hindsight lends poetics to things where there may have been none. "It's not fair. No one's _wrong_ . Things just suck."

G:: "For now." Gaster grins down at Sans, uplit by the mushroom they're sitting on. "But things are about to get much better!"

S: Yeah. Sure. He's about to lose his brother, his hometown, the only lover he's ever had, his friends....  
Better.  
"Yeah. We'll make it good for everyone."

G:: "That is the spirit! Now, if only you could convince the rest of the team."

S: He kicks his feet, heels dragging over damp stone.  
"I'm a scientist, not a miracle worker."

G:: Gaster leans a shoulder against Sans'. "There was a time when we would have considered science magic."

S: Sans gives in against his better instincts and leans his head onto Gaster's shoulder. He's not very comfortable....  
"It'll be like that when we go back, won't it? Not that we don't also have magic. But we also have science."

G:: "We will blow their minds."

S: "Planning to become the leader of the monster world, Doc? Wow the world with your advancement?"

G:: "I do like being acknowledged, you know. Even if I do not do this for praise."

S: Sans lets his eyes close.  
"You're brilliant." Acknowledgement enough, right?

G:: Gaster shifts so Sans' head is laying against one of his collarbones. "Yes. I am aware."

S: It feels close and tender. The slight rise and fall of Gaster's ribs as he breathes, softly, and Sans wonders if he'll hear a heartbeat. He doesn't know if he has one, either....  
"You always will be. No matter what else changes." That's something, right? Gaster will always be the smartest monster Sans has ever met.

G:: "Surely I am not that much different." Even if he feels different.

S: In moments like this, he can maybe pretend Gaster isn't different. Things are like they were, Gaster close to him, things that spider's thread away from intimate. Like maybe Gaster still has that softness he'd have sometimes, that fragile edge.  
Is it bad that Sans was attracted to his vulnerability? It seems shitty, when he thinks about it. Can't he be drawn to someone who's no longer on the verge of breaking?  
"You're different. Still figuring out how I feel about it."

G:: "Hmmm, apparently not so different from how you felt before." Gaster says it like he finds it funny or like it doesn't matter at all and therefore he has no opinion on it.

S: Sans swallows and flinches. Well. There's that harsh edge he's not used to.  
"I guess that doesn't just go away overnight."

G:: "You know, I do not mind it so much now."

S: It's the strangest mix of encouraging and painful. _So he won't turn away my affection, but only because he doesn't have the capacity to give a shit. You know how to do this romance thing real well, Sans._  
 "You can still stop me anytime." But he stays where he is, close to Gaster, resting on his collarbone.

G:: Gaster snickers, "Why would I?"

S: Sans flushes, turns his face into Gaster's collarbone like he's hiding.  
"Because you don't want me all over you, I imagine."

G:: Gaster hunches down, his jaw against Sans' temple, his mouth split in another grin.  
"Have I not told you how flattering I thought it was?" Now it really is just kind of funny. Well. Maybe. He still has something of a sense of humor.

S: Well, he probably doesn't care if it's encouraging me now, since he doesn't care if I get hurt. It's almost kind of a relief. Who cares if Sans gets hurt. Who cares if Gaster hurts him. He deserves it. "I'm good at flattery." He could keep going. It kind of feels good too, in a stupid, self-destructive way.

G:: "Luckily." He remembers saying something about it, once, when he actually gave a damn.

S: _And you have terrible luck_. He wishes he wasn't such a chickenshit. Maybe he's just worn down and self-destructive enough not to care.  
"I could sing your praises. I could..." He does get stuck, then, too sorrowful and messy to make a for real proposition.

G:: What a nervous mess. Gaster is glad he got over that foolishness long ago, way before Sans came to the lab. Before Jawbone, even. Now that he thinks about it, was he ever foolish? Hm, Gaster is willing to say no.  
"How is your singing voice?"

S: His voice gets caught for a second before he can manage to speak. When he does, there's a tremor. But he speaks.  
"Mellow and sweet, I'd hope."

G:: "You'd hope?"

S: "Haven't exactly been told." _Great, tell him you were a virgin up until recently_. "You could tell me." Smooth, real smooth.

G:: When Gaster leans back on his hand, he reactivates the mushroom they're sitting on. It pulses brighter for a moment before dulling out again. "I haven't the ear for art, unfortunately. Never have."

S: "Science is an art, isn't it?" The glow from under them lights up the strangest angles of Gaster's face, cast deeper and darker shadows in his eyes. He still can't seem to pull his eyes away, pull himself away. He's a mess.

G:: "Hm... Then maybe I have the mind and hands for art."

S: It sends a tremor down Sans' spine, and he's sure Gaster can feel it. His eyes squeeze shut for a second. Feels like taking advantage, somehow. Can't pull himself away, regardless.  
"Do you?"

G:: Gaster hums again, his pupils shifting to stare knowingly down at Sans. "Is this your idea of hitting on me?"

S: Sans would go red, if he had the ability. As it is, sweat beads on his forehead.  "Vaguely. I'm afraid if I hit on you with any more - uh- intent- you're going to laugh."

G:: "You are incredibly funny."

S: Sans snorts a laugh. "I'll just joke my way into your." What? Heart? Pants? "Arms."

G:: This time Gaster does laugh, and it isn't exactly kind. "What a pregnant pause." Sans is already cuddled up on his chest, he's getting a bit far, isn't he?

S: It tremors down Sans' spine again, the slightest edge of mockery. Maybe he deserves to be mocked. Maybe he wants to be mocked.  
"I should stop." He still doesn't move from where he's draped. "I'm getting - cocky. Thinking this isn't hopeless."

G:: "You know, the conclusion I have come to is that there is nothing wrong with a little fun." Still, he stands and dusts himself off, knocking the spores from his robes. "I suppose we are officially done with training today."

S: Sans takes a minute to catch his breath before he shoves his hands into his pockets and stands, too. "Well. It was successful, I'd say." He feels like an idiot. There's a persistent ache through his ribs and spine and hips, and he feels like an idiot for that, too. "The training, I mean."

G:: "What else would you possibly mean?" Gaster checks a pocket watch he's kept tucked inside his lab coat, clicking it open and snapping it shut a few times. "Do you suppose your colleagues held up their end of the deal? I wager not."

S: "I'm sure they tried their best." Sans feels the impulse to take a side and shoves it down to remain staunchly in the middle. (And isn't that pathetic? Just a little affection, and he's back in Gaster's grip...)

G:: Gaster scoffs, though it doesn't sound particularly angry. Far more unbelieving than anything else.  
"You have so much faith in them."

S: "They're good scientists. And people. We're a team, so we should. Support each other." And they are the closest to friends that any of them has....

G:: "Good scientists, but cowards. All of you, really, though you try very hard to hide it yourself." Gaster has concluded that, if necessary, he can finish this himself. Even if he'd rather not.

S: Sans flinches. There he is, object of your affections, literal heartless monster. Sans pulls his hoodie closer around himself.  
"I think you'll find most monsters that aren't you are like that, Doc. We're all still trying."

G:: "You could be like me."

S: _Never in a hundred years_. "The way I feel about others is pretty important to me." He swallows. "But I guess once we get back, it's an inevitability, isn't it?"

G:: Gaster hums and leans down close to Sans' skull. Their bone scrapes together when he talks.  
"Not necessarily. You were looking into that, were you not?"

S: "I was. I am." If there's any chance- of saving any of them- Sans is. He's working on it. If he just has enough time.... He shudders, lets his eyes slip closed. "I don't want to give that up."

G:: "Then don't!" Gaster claps him on the back and moves them at the same time, dropping them in the above-ground portion of the lab. "You have the power and the intelligence for it, Sans."

S: Sans nods, small and a little dizzy from taking the quick way after working so hard at the blasters. "Thank you, doc." Feels strange being complimented and called a coward in almost the same breath.

G:: He flaps a hand at Sans, "Ah, you know these things already. Now get home and get some rest."

S: _More like stay up sleepless through the night._ But he's a little relieved to be released; he feels exhaustion overwhelming through his bones, and being around Gaster is flustering enough that he's almost emotionally drained. "Goodnight, doc." He hovers for a second, hands fidgeting in his pockets. "Sleep well."

G:: "You know better than that." Gaster winks at him for no particular reason other than he feels like it and shortly waves goodbye.

S: Of course he knows it. He takes himself home the quick way, and between the persistent ache all through him (which he tries his best to relieve, but mostly ends up feeding) and the anxiety wound up tight in his ribs, he doesn't sleep much if at all. Fantastic.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans spirals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's NSFW content ahead this chapter. Be warned for dubious consent and intoxication.

G: Startlingly enough, for Gaster at least, the team stuck around while he was gone. He winds up urging them along to work through the night and sending them home early, early in the morning. It's just a few hours before Gaster expects Sans to come in, and he works through the time alone.  


S: When Sans crawls in come morning, he takes a while to notice he's alone in the lab. He sticks by the coffee machine for a while, trying to will away his headache and the stiffness from his joints. There's a lot more progress on the machine than he expected.....  


G: "Beautiful, mm?"  


S: "It's awe-inspiring."  
Takes him a minute to stop being startled at Gaster's voice and respond. He guesses he should have expected him to still be awake.... "It came together more than I had imagined..."  


G: "And it will be ready for testing soon." Gaster's pupils are sunk deep, but he's looking to remedy that with coffee. One of his extra hands helps out and grabs the sugar. "I am.. ah, as excited as I can be."  


S: "You must miss that." Sans is quiet, tired, but he pours Gaster some coffee as well and hands it off to a pair of hands.  
"Shit, though. We've..." He gets a little overwhelmed thinking about it. "We've really done it."  


G: Gaster sips his coffee, burning his hard palate. "Not yet, not quite. But we are very close."  


S: "We've made it so far." Sans laughs a little. He's a wreck right now....  
"It's really going to happen." He sips his own coffee, still foggy in his skull. "Where is everyone else?"  


G: "Asleep. They all left only a few hours ago, much to my... Well, much to what would have been my delight." Gaster chuckles humorlessly, looking unbothered.  


S: "What would have been it." Sans manages to laugh, dry and sad. "They worked hard, huh? Told you." Gaster may have no faith left, but Sans can have it for him.  
"So.... just you and me in the lab? I can keep working on the machine, but I'll need to catch up on the notes...."  


G: Gaster hums into his coffee cup and waves a hand at Sans, shaking his head.  
"No, I want you working on your own project. I have all the help I need for the machine." One of his magical hands gives Sans an a-okay sign.  


S: Sans chuckles softly and hi-fives one near him, just for the hell of it. "Right. I've actually got the body of my thesis written up and ready for presentation, so at this point..."  
At this point he delves into the theoretical. "I've been designing some concepts to see about reversing the effects. I thought I could actually.... build off some existing stuff."  


G: "Feel free to draw from anything here. My work has always been open to use."  


S: "Yeah." Sans smiles brightly at him. "It sounds a little crazy, but- you know, we could build off the extractor we were working with. If I set it up to work on a living monster- extract the extra additions found in you after the humans' souls took effect- I think." He falls quiet. "I think it could work."  


G:: Gaster hums to himself. He thinks very hard about becoming a test subject, a guinea pig, being... experimented on. Well, it's a bit exciting since he can't feel worried about it anymore.  
"So rather than just reading the human souls, you will be... mm, extracting the. Humanity from mine?"  


S: "Right." He's a little hesitant to bring this up. The notes he has scrawled down are all middle-of-the-night things, needlessly fanciful calculations and sleepless pondering. Done wrong, it could hurt Gaster- badly. Hell, done too much and it could.

Well, it could kill him.

But....

"I'd be isolating and extracting the changes that I have nailed down. It'd essentially be stripping humanity out of your soul. It'd be.... dangerous. But..." Sans runs a fingerbone around the rim of his cup. "I think it'd be worth it. Purging out the influence. It would mean hope for monsterkind, too. As a species- even if we fought a war, and all of us bore the burden of killing a human- we could. We wouldn't have to change. Or lose ourselves." Karma evasion at its finest.  


G: "Oh dear, is that what you think has happened to me?"  


S: Sans fidgets. "Isn't it?"  


G:: Gaster clicks his teeth, smirking at the cracked side of his mouth. "Oh, _Sans._ "  


S: Sans scrunches down into his hoodie. "Well, in the interest of science, why not tell me in your own words?"  


G:: "Well, there is the disconnect I spoke of before.. Like I am watching myself move along from somewhere deep. Mm, but it is a bit hard to uphold filters when it feels like nothing really matters." Gaster sips at his coffee like he didn't just say something fucked up.  


S: _Nothing really matters_. "And somehow you don't count that as losing yourself?" He guesses it's hard to when nothing matters. "You're still in there. It's just a fog, right? We can. We can strip that away."

G:: Gaster shrugs easily, smiling. "Ah, I could not describe it to someone who does not feel it. In any case, I am excited for you to make progress." He pauses for a second. "Or. Something close to that."

S: "As close as you can come." Sans smiles at him, and - while it is weary and mopey- it's genuine. "I'll get to work, then."

G:: "Thatta boy." Gaster finishes his coffee before returning to the main body of the lab, himself.

* * *

 

S: Sans burns through three coffees and one of his last two cigarettes over the course of the day. It's mostly planning, schematics, equations. All brainwork, and Sans' brain is running on fumes. He's got a lot of figuring to do, and no one to bounce off of. He tries bouncing ideas around the empty part of the lab, but it just feels lonely. So he takes a smoke break halfway through, jittery and yawning.  


G:: Since it's just the two of them, Gaster actually notices when Sans disappears from the lab. Not that he doesn't notice when the others are around. Though he does care moderately less about that lot. He goes through Sans' charts and sketches and tells himself he's proofreading rather than just being nosy. There's an incorrect calculation that screwed up an equation halfway through its process... He pencils in the proper solution as a favor before heading up to find Sans outside the front door of the lab.  
"Smoking again."  


S: "If I'm not careful, it'll become a habit." Sans smiles wearily up at Gaster. "Reach a pausing point on the machine?"  


G:: "Not at all. But as master of this organization, I allow myself to take breaks when I deem them appropriate." Gaster plucks the cigarette from between Sans' teeth and takes a puff off of it.  


S: "I was smoking that..." But Sans lets Gaster have it; honestly, he's glad for the company.  
"I suppose as master of the organization, you also get first dibs on my cigarettes, huh?"  


G:: "There is no reason two reasonable adults cannot share." Gaster shrugs, pulls another mouthful of smoke, and offers the cigarette back to Sans.  


S: Sans takes it back, takes a drag. It's only doing so much to counteract the coffee jitters; sleep would be better than nicotine, but he doesn't see that anytime in the near future.  
"I guess if you really insist, I can be a reasonable adult." Plus, there's something kind of appealing about it.  


G:: The doctor chuckles dryly and tosses a stone down the steep decline to the glowing core below.  
"Be sure not to rely on them too heavily. When we go back, we will only have when we are able to bring with us."  


S: "Yeah." Sans takes another drag. Thinking about that hurts....   
"I'm going to miss cigarettes. And some of the movies I always watch.... human movies, even." He watches smoke curl into the air. "And that one kind of coffee we get sometimes when it's in stock for the lab."  


G:: "We can always make those things. Be the inventors."  


S: "Well, if science gets dull for me, I guess I can recreate my favorite human movies..... I think that was a movie plot, too." Huh.  
He falls quiet for a second.   
"What if I brought Papyrus along?"  


G:: Gaster grimaces, though there isn't much actual emotion behind it. Habit, he thinks.  
"Though I do enjoy your brother's tiresome and repetitive questions, we do not yet know this will work at all. Much less for more than one of us."  


S: "He's good at magic. Taught me everything I know." Sans pauses, weighing what he's about to say. Some sacrifices need to be made, right?  
  
"I bet he could use the blasters."  


G:: "Mm.." Another success would certainly spur on the king, wouldn't it? But another skeleton, as well. Gaster needs other monsters to make a convincing argument, monster with more stuffing. If he can successfully perform the implantation on something aside from just the two or three of them.. Still.  
"I will think about it and get back to you." Though he knows it's mostly a desperate bid for Sans to bring his brother along.  


S: "Okay." Sans knows, in his head, the last thing he wants is for Papyrus to hurt anyone, for Papyrus to be affected like Gaster is. But given the choice between Papyrus having to hurt someone, and Papyrus ceasing to exist....

Sans would do some pretty unsavory things to keep his brother around, in all honesty. Maybe kill in his place. If he had to.

He grinds out his cigarette butt on the volcanic rock. "Honestly, it doesn't feel like I'm getting anything done in there." A change of subject might make him feel better.  


G:: "You are feeling stuck?"  


S: "Yeah. Keep thinking myself in circles."  


G:: Gaster hums and straightens out a little. His back pops, but he still hunches when he relaxes again.   
"Do some proofreading. Have a bit of coffee or something to eat. Start over on a tough spot if you find you cannot go further."  


S: Sans smiles up at him. He's sure he has circles under his eyes...  
"You're a genius for a reason, huh? Guess I get so fixated on my end goal I get.... stuck. In it." Food sounds great.... and he hasn't read back through his (messy) notes at all.  


G:: "End goals are fun but useless in the course of trailblazing." How can one even determine what their goal is if they haven't observed it yet? "I am sure you can do it." Gaster scrapes a knuckle against Sans' cheekbone before heading back to the laboratory.  


S: Sans ends up raiding the snack drawer for chips and those settle his head considerably more than the coffee or the cigarette. He smiles to himself when he discovers the addition to his notes in pencil; it most definitely helps his equations. He reworks a few, but he finds himself doodling in the margins of his notes just as much.  


G:: Gaster is leagues more motivated than Sans, busy stripping parts and breaking them down in order to build them back up. His helping hands travel from him to the machine to the forge and back, a constant fluttering motion throughout almost the entirety of the lab.  
There's a point where he nearly calls himself done, save for a few casings and moldings, and he takes a long step back to admire the additions to the chronoscope.  


S: Sans takes another break to stop in and check on it, and he's more than a little floored by the progress. The machine has really come together, hasn't it?  
"Shit, Doc, this is incredible."  


G:: "If a little monstrous in the human sense, hm?" The chronoscope has definitely grown since its first induction to the lab. Gaster imagines Kenny never foresaw this outcome for their machine. "Theoretically, we can compress the proteins in the synthesized elements into a reactive state. Luckily, they are.. fairly easy to make now that we know the processes for each of them."  


S: "So ultimately, we'll be able to synthesize them as needed." And the scope of time will be at their fingertips. The machine is....bordering on grotesque, he'll admit, with the additions. Kind of taking on a life of its own.... "How exactly is it going to work?"  


G:: "Well, hopefully it will be fairly simple." Gaster lays a hand on the largest of the new addition, and it swings freely when he pushes it.   
"We have attached a centrifuge to it, and a motor to that, and the synthesized elements will sit in this 'hand'. This will spin up, increasing in speed until the elements react to the pressure created from the gravitational force."  


S: "And that reaction will act on the material of time." Endlessly simple in execution, but endlessly complex in concept. "The rings on the chronometer can act as a guidance system for the amount of time moved, right?" He remembers that part of the plan.  


G:: "And as a check to tell us how far we are moving back. Would not want to wind up in the stone age, you know."  


S: "Most definitely not." Sans laughs, short and sheepish. "There'd be nothing in the way of good food back then. I don't even know if there were monsters yet."  


G:: Gaster hums a little, maybe as a substitute for laughing.  
"Oh, I suspect monsters have always existed."  


S: "I guess we'll get to find out, huh?" Sans falls quiet. "All the monster history and culture and stuff that couldn't bloom underground. That we lost."  


G:: "That was snatched from us, you mean."  


S: "But not anymore." Sans fidgets. "We'd get to see how monster kind could really blossom, you know? What kind of great things we can achieve."  


G:: Gaster's eyes light up brighter, and he grins wide. "And we will have a jump-start on progress. Clean energy in the form of the Core two millennia early, as well as knowledge of everything else we have made and could make."  


S: "Monsterkind could easily surpass where humanity is probably at right now...." Or, where he can gather they're at, based on their discarded technology and their movies.

_God, please let me bring Papyrus along to see it.  
  
_

G:: "Shrodinger's utopia. For now."  


S: "Till we make it happen." Sans stretches. The machine thrums, gently, the rings still running synchronously, marking the passage of time. "Have you had anything to eat yet?"  


G:: Gaster hums questioningly, his thought process interrupted.   
"Where would we go if I say no?"  


S: "Dunno. To Grillby's? Or there's a sushi place in the Capital I liked. Or we could, I don't know, grab some cheap snacks from a shop somewhere." Sans is easy to please, eager to eat, and maybe hoping to distract them both.  


G:: "We could always order in, as well, keep working." That sounds like the much better idea to Gaster. He knows how desperately they all want to distract him, even Sans is keeping it up. Ah, after they made so much headway...  


S: "Yeah, but where's the celebration in that?" Sans realizes he's transparent. But he needs to be distracted as much as anything.  


G:: Mmhm, sure. Gaster looks down at him with a crooked brow and a scowl. He has no quarrels with saying no, he wants to keep working, and he knows Sans should as well.

But... he supposes when one can theoretically control time, it doesn't matter all that much. "I do not think the monsters west of the Capitol would greet me very warmly."  


S: He has a point there. It's not like there's an outright outrage, no, but the human had been.... Well, no one else wanted to hurt them or see them hurt. And Gaster...  
"Uh, how about sushi, then?"  


G:: "Why is it you still want to go out with me?" Gaster can't quite wrap his head around it, it doesn't make much sense. He's fairly certain he registered disdain on Sans' face not but a few days ago.  


S: Sans shrugs, as flippant as he can manage to be.  
"Things don't change overnight, even if _you_ did. I still....seek out your company, ya know?"  


G:: Gaster laughs, and it may be just the tiniest bit cruel. Certainly callous. "Still, though you think I am a menace?"  


S: Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets.  
"I don't think you're a menace. Just......harsh. Unempathetic." He considers for a second, trying to avoid the weird fear and discomfort that always crawls up his spine when Gaster laughs like that. "Cruel, occasionally. But I'm going to fix that. Strip all that away."  


G:: "And what if there is nothing left, after all that?" Gaster is grinning. It's a harsh question, perhaps something close to a worst-case scenario, but he must present it as a result. Scientific integrity.  


S: Sans curls and uncurls his fingers in his pockets, fighting fear crawling up his spine. "Then I'll find a way to fix that, too."  


G:: Gaster knows very well that might not be possible. He's sure Sans knows, as well, and that hopefulness in him is closer to a weakness than a strength.  
"Let's do lunch," he says, far more cheerful than the tense air between them should allow.

S: Sans swallows. He feels brittle and fragile, an all over ache through his bones that's unpleasant and shaky.   
"Right. Lunch. I know a shortcut." He takes Gaster's sleeve instead of his hand and folds them both out.  


G:: He looks happy enough to be out of the lab, but that most likely is from his general 'nothing really matters' outlook as of late. Gaster sits himself at the sushi bar and immediately orders two different sea slug rolls before patting the stool next to him.  


S: Sans creeps up next to him, slides onto the stool and takes a while to look at the menu so he doesn't have to look at Gaster for a while. He ends up ordering a mushroom and crab roll. His feet dangle on the stool and he kicks them for a minute before feeling childish and stopping.  
"I came here with the team a while ago. It's pretty good."  


G:: "If I am not mistaken, this is not far from where we first went out." Gaster watches the tentacle arms in the kitchen with interest, his pupils shifting to follow specific motions.  


S: "I don't guess it is, is it?" He hasn't been to that cafe since.... "We got desserts." And he noticed he had a tiny little crush on Gaster.

 

...How things can change, huh?  


G:: Gaster watches with interest as one of the arms prepares rice for their sushi. "You introduced me to your brother afterwards."  


S: "I did. You got us groceries." Well, pets more than groceries.... and they didn't keep them long....  
"He's gotten taller since you met him, did you know? He's going to be impossibly tall."  


G:: "Only impossible for you, maybe."  


S: Sans laughs, despite himself. Despite everything. "Maybe I'll hit a growth spurt." It's so easy to pretend, isn't it?  


G:: "And maybe pigs aside from the winged pigs will fly." Not that there are many of them to begin with. The line has faltered since being forced underground.  


S: "Hey, Tsunderplane has been known to give a piggyback or two." He laughs at his own joke....  


G:: "Sun-what?" Is this supposed to be someone he knows? Perhaps a television personality.  


S: .... "They, uh. They live around Hotland. I don't guess you've met...." Admittedly, they only met Sans because they smacked into him while running somewhere with a piece of toast in their. ....Nose? Windshield?  


G:: Gaster shakes his head, looking unimpressed. It doesn't matter. But the sushi that comes out to them is impressive. Gaster hums in appreciation,  
"Mm, a good choice for a third date, Sans."  


S: He splutters on his water. This was definitely Gaster's intention, and he feels stupid for reacting so predictably.

And yet.

_And yet._

"I didn't know we were classifying them as such." Hoped, maybe. "I guess my taste can be applauded."  


G:: Is he cruel? Gaster thinks he has plenty of opportunities to be more so. He doesn't take this one, but only after weighing his options.  
"Perhaps not your taste in everything. But the food is good."  


S: _No, my taste in crushes is pretty questionable, isn't it?_

 And yet, he can't seem to stop. No matter what Gaster says to him. Does. He still feels that ache for him, wants to curl up in his arms.

Yeah, not his taste in everything. "Food's one of the only things I have going on, right? Might as well indulge in it."  


G:: "Majors, perhaps." Gaster's thin fingers struggle with a pair of chopsticks before figuring them out. It's a little out of place with the way he is now. "Fields of study. I cannot say much for your friends."  


S: "My friends are your lab crew." Sans feels a brief flutter of affection watching Gaster struggle. It makes him seem more....real, more of a bone and dust monster.  
"With a few exceptions. My other friend is... a successful business owner, maybe that's a credit to my taste." Well... Maybe once he'd have dared to consider Gaster a friend. Now he's.... too distant. "And my brother."  


G:: Gaster casts a look over at him, looking Sans up and down. Such a small thing. But as he's shown, destructive power isn't based on size. It has been a valuable bit of information for Gaster's research.  
"Tell me, does your brother know about the implant?"  


S: Sans shakes his head, quickly, before picking at a piece of ginger.  
"No. I, uh- I haven't told him. I told him....I'd had some medical check ups to make me stronger at magic." Which is... sort of the truth.  


G:: "You will have to explain to him what the surgery entails." Gaster pauses to place a roll very carefully on his tongue. He chews for a moment. "If I said yes to your request."  


S: Sans stills for a while before he uses his chopsticks to pick at the wasabi and place a morsel in his mouth. His hard palate burns with it.  
"If you said yes. But, if you did. I'd be glad to explain it. To him. Demonstrate the blaster, and how. Strong, it could make him, in a fight. I know he wants to be a strong warrior."  


G:: "You are transparent."  


S: He winces and stuffs a roll in his mouth.  
"He's all I've got. And he'd be useful. You'd be glad to have him along, promise."  


G:: Gaster shakes his head. He isn't particularly disappointed, as disappointment requires expectation. And he has moved past things like that.  
"I am sure." But it doesn't sound like he much cares.  


S: Sans feels his shoulders sag with it, the way he feels weighed down. _You really thought you were sly, huh?_    
"Yeah." What's left to say between them? It's all moot by now.  


G:: "You have a good head on your shoulders, Sans. Do not let anything hold you back."  


S: "What, so I can be like you? Can't wait." He regrets it as soon as he says it, and he stuffs ginger in his mouth like it'll cleanse the words off his palate.  
"You do okay with no attachment to anyone or affection. I'm not.... most monsters aren't okay alone, you know?"  


G:: "Do you think me immoral?" Gaster sips on a glass of water between his first roll and the second. Shame, this is an awfully good place for them to creep close to an argument.  


S: "I think you don't care about anyone anymore. And I know you used to. But you never." Sans feels the heat in the marrow of his bones of anger, frustration. "You never loved anyone but the vague conception of monster kind, so you can't know what it's like. And now I guess you won't, ever."  


G:: He picks apart the first of his sushi rolls to get to the tiny portion of meat inside. It's fresher than he expected it to be, and he knows he would have been excited for it a long time ago.  
"Awfully presumptuous of you."  


S: Sans throws his hands up in the air.  
"By all means, prove me wrong. Tell me you loved someone. Tell me you have a shred of memory of what it's like to care about someone more than is logical or beneficial. Because you really, really make me doubt you know anything about it as it is now."  


G:: "Excuse me, sir." The cephalopoda at the cash register looks confused but leans towards Gaster anyway. "Do tell us if we start to make a scene, hm?"

They take a nervous few seconds before nodding and giving a sortof thumbs-up with a tentacle.  


S: Sans runs his hands over the dome of his skull.  
"I'm not making a scene , Doc, I'm just trying to find out if there was ever a monster with a heart and soul under all that science, if it's even - worth-"  


G:: Gaster laughs lowly, quietly.  
"Should I give it to you in the form of my life story? Make the argument for my humanity-" Ironic, that word- "in prose? I am no poet, Sans, unless you accept numbers and formulae in place of rhetoric."

S: "Are you going to give me a formula that proves this? You can't measure this kind of thing, Doc, you just. You just." Sans gives up, pushing his plate aside so he can pillow his head on his arms. "I don't know. You won't understand it anymore. Loving someone- any sort of it- it's not like that. I don't know. I give up."

G:: "Ah, the young always think they know everything.. A bottle of warm sake for my wounded companion, please."  
Gaster doesn't even know if Sans has ever had it before. In any case, it doesn't take long to come out to them, and Gaster busies himself pouring drinks for the both of them.  


S: It's flippant enough to bruise his ego and ache in his ribs, and Sans keeps his head in his arms, even when he smells the alcohol. It's probably supposed to lure him out of sulking.  
"Some 'date'. "

G:: Gaster laughs again, and it rattles on his hard palate. He slides one of the little ceramic cups towards Sans.  
"You attach so easily. I used to lov-" And something twinges awfully. "I." _Still painful.._ Pathetic, really. He thought, surely, he was over this nonsense. "... Perhaps I should not have it back, then."

S: Sans finally sits up and takes the sake cup. He drinks it slowly, a little weirded out by the warmth. It's nice, in a strange way, though. He looks at Gaster, and he hates the sympathy that creeps into his bones, the way he always ends up back here.  
"It can't have all been bad, right? Bad enough never to ever feel it again?"

G:: Gaster holds his warm cup against his teeth for a moment, bothered.  
"I am hardly in the state to consider it anymore, don't you think?"

S: "Apparently you can still consider it." Maybe there's still a beating heart in his ribs. Maybe. Sans should know better than to hope. _And yet._

G:: "Hm." Gaster doesn't say anything more than that, lost in thought as he often is.

S: Sans loathes himself, sometimes. How easily he's suckered in.  
"You can't tell me about it? ..... It's okay if you can't."

G:: "I cannot." Gaster notices the cashier eavesdropping and directs a withering look at them.  
"You never know what can be counted as treason these days." Ah, well. Gaster finally takes a sip of sake, and it warms him up toasty.

S: "Treas-" Oh.

Oh.

_He was a dear friend._

"Sorry." It seems to be all he can say.  


G:: Gaster's strange disposition returns, unworried.  
"Oh, I am certainly over it now." He laughs, his voice all gravel. Whatever spark was there looks to be gone.

S: Sure, he looks completely over it. As much as Sans is over him.

Well, Gaster has a bit of an advantage over Sans. Sans still has feelings in general,

"I guess in time I will be, too." Kill enough humans, and he'll stop giving a shit about most things. His brother, his crush, everyone in Snowdin. All of it.  


G:: "Now Sans, we just talked about this."  


S: "Yeah, I know." And he is working on it. He is. But what's the point of fixing anything, feeling anything, if he has to lose his brother? He drinks more sake. And pours them both more when he's finished his little cup.  
"You know, I remember inquiring a while ago as to what kind of drunk you were." They'll need to keep the sake flowing to get him there, though.  


G:: "Oh?" Gaster taps his little cup against Sans' and drinks the sake down. He pops his last sushi in his mouth, chews, and swallows before talking again.  
"Did I give you an answer?"  


S: "Nope. Left me wondering." Sans' sushi is gone, but he has plenty of ginger to pick at between cups of sake.  
"If I recall, I invited you for drinks. Guess I could get an answer now."  


G:: Gaster's mouth stretches into something like a grin. With the way it's damaged, it's... strange and wrong.  
"You know, I am not sure I can feel _fun_ anymore."  


S: Sans swallows. Yeah, that's a bit of a downside.  
"Sounds like as much reason as any to drink."  


G:: "There has been quite a lot of that going on recently." He still pours himself another cup. Gaster goes to pour another for Sans, too, until he notices it's still full.  


S: "At least we're helping keep the bars in business, right?" Sans drains his cup so that Gaster can pour another.  
"Mostly Jawbone." Although Sans has done his share of being drunk and upset.  


G:: He obliges and taps their cups together again.  
"You know, Bikeaby made quite a show of confronting me about this mess while you were busy being late for work. Awfully brave for a coward, even I have to admit."  


S: Sans is quietly proud of him, a weird little rush of affection that is probably friendship. He knocks back his next sake cup and shakes his head at the slight burn. "I assume you didn't apologize or anything."  


G:: "What have I to apologize for, precisely?"  


S: "That's slippery." Murdering children should be the answer, but it's.... complex.  
"What happened? After he confronted you?" He pours the next round for the both of them.  


G:: Gaster hums to himself. "He demanded the truth, and so I told him the truth." The look on Bikeaby's face afterwards said he wasn't as satisfied with it as he thought he would be.  


S: "Ah." Well, confirmation of what he more or less knew.  
"I guess the cat's out of the bag at this point, so no one is treading carefully anymore."  


G:: "Why tread carefully? He will learn soon enough the destructive power of human beings." Gaster tuts. "I will coddle him no longer."  


S: "So it counted as coddling before?" Sans would hate to see his impression of 'harsh', then....  
"His fears are justified. A lot of monsters have died to humanity."  


G:: Gaster scoffs gently. "Of course they are. And yet you still sit in a different kind of fear, hoping against all evidence that you can save everyone."  


S: "Is it so bad to hope?" Sans knocks back another cup of sake. He can feel the buzz in his skull. "There's gotta be a way."  


G:: "You are working against laws of inevitability."  


S: "Laws can be broken." This is why Sans is a quantum physicist.  
"There's too much we don't understand, too much we can outright _break_ , to say anything is inevitable. A year ago, time was a linear and unmalleable quantity for monsterkind. Look at us now."  


G:: When Gaster laughs, it scrapes hard against his palate and comes out harsh.  
"Yes, Sans, do tell me what you know of human nature."  


S: "How would I know?" His voice is raising again.  
"You killed the only human that seemed willing to work and cooperate with us. Maybe we could discover things about the surface if we didn't murder nonviolent children."  


G:: The restaurant is starting to become that awkward quiet right before silence. Gaster winks at a monster that turns his way with a dirty look.  
"You want to learn about the surface, fine. Once we go back you can have a proper tour. If the humans do not fall upon us and slaughter us in our sleep again."  


S: He's right, that's the worst part, he always has to be right . Sans is tired of him never being wrong. He's tired of having nowhere to direct his anger. He's tired of seeing things rationally and logically, he just wants to be hurt and upset with someone. He wants someone to accept some goddamn blame.

"Do you get sick of it? Being right all the damn time? Being above it all? While the rest of us are mere mortal monsters, just there for your derision?"  


G:: "Sans, really, you think I am deriding you?" Gaster can't exactly help being right. What is he supposed to do? Lie? Soothe those hurt feelings with false assurances and hugs? For what purpose?  
"I came out to eat sushi and attempt to have fun."  


S: Sans is sulking, he knows he is. He's being a bratty kid, angry because he wants to be angry. He's spoiling a perfectly good .... date?  
This is stupid, and Sans is stupid for it.

And yet.

"This is fun for you, right? Watching all of us be huge messes? It's not like you'd have fun with me unless. You could mock." He's tipsy, and a mess. "Shit, I don't know." He's also losing steam. Being angry is _hard_.  


G:: "If your idea of having a good time is getting offended over wild assumptions, then know I haven't the drive to stop you."  
Gaster finishes off the bottle of sake, though he hasn't much more than a slight flush to show he's been drinking at all.  


S: Sans folds his arms on the countertop and pillows his skull on them again, tired from the outburst.  
"Apparently my idea of a good time is ruining other people's good times. Fuck if I know."  


G:: Gaster laughs lowly and sits a small satchel of gold on the countertop to pay for the two of them.  
"Oh, I am not having a good time yet. Come on."  


S: Sans shakes his head a little, but he rises from his stool at Gaster's beckoning, falling into step with him just like he always has. "There's still time for a good time, isn't there?" Time for Sans to. Something. Feel better, somehow. More drinks, maybe. "There's always more alcohol."  


G:: "Where do you think I am going?"

* * *

 

Gaster seems like the last person in the underground to go bar-hopping, but he pursues it with something like dogged interest.

He cannot say he's ever drank so much outside of weddings.

"No, no, just. Stop talking." Gaster's fricatives are simultaneously too soft and strangely sharp due to his injuries. "You obviously don't understand dark matter-"

The monster he's turned to looks as if she's in further over her head than she originally anticipated.  


S: In all honesty, Sans should feel guilty.

It isn't that he _deliberately_ unleashed Gaster on her. It's just, well.

She'd mentioned his friend was hot. After asking if they were brothers, no less. And it wasn't that he was jealous, no. It's just that he'd told her to ask Gaster about science. _Because he's passionate about it_ , he'd told her,  _you'll charm him by being interested._

Drunk and spiteful isn't a good look for him, is it?

He orders another drink and knocks it back before he shakes Gaster's shoulder.  
"Doc. Hush. That study is from eighteen years ago, we have no idea what's changed since then, quit being a snob."  


G:: "What good is being a scientist if I'm not allo-llowed to make science more accessible to the general populace? Now-"  
He immediately launches into a series of long and very specific explanations that one would need a degree to understand. The slurring isn't helping, either..  


S: Sans groans and gets himself another drink. The bartender is cute, but she's not Grillby. Mostly, she just looks..... bemused, that this is happening in front of her.

He eventually starts to feel bad for the other monster. She keeps darting her eyes around, looking for an out. Any pause in the conversation. She keeps opening her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by some continued rant about a specific term or theory.

Sans finally musters up enough drunken guilt to do something about it. He shakes Gaster, drawing his attention away.  
"Ok, see, what you'are. You're  forgetting here is -" As he gets drawn into the argument he winks and moves his head to indicate the monster can go. She looks overwhelmingly relieved.  


G:: Gaster seems to apparently value Sans' opinions more than the monster who was trying to hit on him. He orders up another drink and sips it through the unreasonably thin straw as Sans goes on and on.  
"That is concievably true, just as much as it is concievably untrue. You understand the issue here?" His eyes are a good bit sleepier when he's drunk.

 

S: "The issue," Sans snickers, "is that you're drunk." He's leaning on the bar, drowsy, wobbly, looking Gaster in the eyes. He's a little more inviting like this, honestly, being passionate and kind of messy...  
"There's a difference between absence of. Of, uh. Evidence to the contrary, and evidence of." He yawns. "Truth. I get it, I get it, I do."  


G:: "It is a, ahm. Shrodin-Srow..." Gaster's brows knit together as he concentrates.  
"Shro-din-ger's conundrum, where it isn't enough to only consider one possibility. This'is. A nice conversation." He leans one cheekbone on his fist, his elbow on the bar, his other hand holding his drink close enough that he doesn't have to search for the straw.  


S: "Didja know, the whole thing about Schrod- schr. The cat, as often parroted as it is, it's not mean to. You know, illustrate quantum- it's, uh. It's a- it's an illustration of how ridiculous the concept is. It's about it being- being. Implausible. Because theory on paper, we can say something is simultaneously possible and impossible, but things, they uh - they prove themselves in life, the cat either dies or it doesn't, there's no- no simultaneously dead and. Alive cat."  
When Sans kicks his feet on the bar stool, they brush Gaster's legs. It's close and intimate and he has to keep leaning closer to talk into his ear. Or, absence thereof.  


G:: Gaster snickers into his drink and winds up bumping a cheekbone against Sans'. The bar is dark and warm, the conversation lively at their backs and sides. It feels some odd combination of intimate and public.  
"Pardon me, then, for saying something out of. Of.." He snaps two fingers a few times, agitated by his forgetfulness. "Arrogance. No, ignorance."  


S: "Li- ling-uistically, though." Sans feels his jaw move and his cheekbone brush Gaster's, the soft scrape of bone on bone. He makes no move to move.  
"Linguistically, there we go- it's a handy concept, a. Phrase with a specific but adaptable. Use. So- it's not all bad. And Schrodinger was- right, quantum physics are fuckin- stupid. Sometimes." He laughs, and someone else laughs on the other bar about something unrelated, a nice little moment of synchronicity.  


G:: "I think you may be drunk, too," Gaster chuckles. Sans has a little too much give when he leans more of his weight over, so Gaster clumsily sets his drink back on the bar and curls the free hand around Sans' cheekbone to support him. It's much better, even if Gaster is really just supporting himself up.  


S: Shit, that's nice. Shit, that's. Nice. Sans closes his eyes to try and get the bar to stop swaying gently (or is that Sans?).  
"I'm a - I'm a small monster. And I don't have- super strength from- all that. Human power." He waves a hand vaguely because he can't remember what he should call it. "I get- drinker faster. Drunker. Faster. S'not fair."  


G:: "Drunk scientists.. We c'not do any science tonight, we would not.." Wouldn't what? "Be able to. Read any breakthroughs we made. N'less we got drunk again."  


S: "We'd have to. Have to get drunk to- the whole thing. To do the whole invention. And then look at it sober." Sans wants to climb into his lap. Wow. That's a stupid idea. He scoots his whole barstool so that their knees touch, though. Patella to patella.  
"Can you imagine? What it'd look like? Some. Drunk ass science machine."  


G:: Gaster finally gives up on the straw and throws what's left of his drink back. He crunches ice loudly between his teeth.  
"A science machine that makes you drunk.." He finally just slings his arm around Sans' shoulder and supports himself that way.  


S: Sans snorts an unattractive, loud laugh. Gaster is so close and he's so drunk, messy, messy, mess.  
"Skip the- drinking. Flip a switch, and- install the drunkenness. Boom."  


G:: "You look happier like this."  


S: Sans makes a weird little noise.  
"Maybe I am. Maybe I oughta. Always be drunk." He turns Gaster's empty cup upside down on the bar and sits a paper coaster on top of it. "Are you having fun?"

G:: Gaster snickers and leans heavier on Sans.  
"What'smmatter, you think I should be done drinking?" The bartender apparently does. When Gaster motions for another cocktail, she brings him water instead. If he notices, he doesn't say anything about it.  


S: Sans feels Gaster wobbling so he loops an arm around his back to hold him up a little. Sans' arms are so short.... but Gaster is thin, and Sans can feel the knobs of his spine against his elbow, the press of his rib cage against his wrist. The material of his coat bunches where Sans holds him tight. He gets another drink and, apparently deeming him okay go keep on, the bartender doesn't switch his for water. He drinks it too fast.  
"How the. How the hell skeletons even get drunk, ya know?"  


G:: Gaster hums into his glass, too busy with his water to respond immediately.  
"Or move. Or talk and eat. Nn, next project, next project."  


S: "Don't let the team study us. Bikeaby'll just- he'll just keep asking how I bone people." Ha! _Bone_ people.  
" _Every time_ , he asks." Magic is his default answer for everything. Magic. "I'm not a _biologist_ ."  


G:: It's the first time Gaster has laughed at one of Sans' puns in a good while. Seems sincere enough, though. He covers his mouth with the back of one hand, but it doesn't really do much. The holes.  
"Come now, Sans, it's for science."  


S: "For science ." Sans snorts mid-drink and thinks he might spray some club soda out of his nasal cavity.... ew.  
"How the hell am I gonna.... You can. You can study that." It's only one-eigth ham-handed come on. The other seven parts are all liquor and genuinely not wanting to study it himself. "Doctor W.D. Gaster, royll scientist, foremost expert on skeleton sex."  


G:: "Hnn, I am going to award myself that.. that award. Right now, you have't be my witness." Gaster laughs again, breathlessly, and slumps around his glass of water.  
"I dn. Think this is vodka."  


S: "I'll present the award." Sans tries to hold Gaster up and fails a little.  
"Drink's a drink's a- drink, finish your wat- vod-....  watka, bar is giving last call."  


G:: Gaster fumbles around a little with his robes until his finds what serves as his wallet. He only bothers counting for a couple of minutes before just clumsily tying the satchel up again and shoving it towards the tender's side of the bar.  
"Okay, okay, no more for me. You'dn have to lie to me about it."  


S: "Oh. Well, good. That's good. I'm sorry I lied." Sans is drunk and touchy feely, so he takes Gaster's hands to help him off the bar stool and loops his arm around him again once they're up.  
"S'good you can- stop, that's good, I'm proud, I can't stop when I'm being a drunky."  


G:: "Where to, now? Hn?"  


S: "The skeleton sex lab." Sans snorts and shakes his head.  
"Kidding. Uh. Fuck, iunno. I always drink at Grillby's. And then go home with him. Iunno."  


G:: "You're. Bad at this," Gaster remarks dramatically.  
"Good thing 'm the one getting the award." He manages to straighten out and stop leaning on Sans so much.  


S: "I'm really bad," Sans laments. "I'll never win an award."  


G:: "Where're we going?"  


S: "Fuck." Where are they going? "Home?"  


G:: Gaster hums tunelessly as they walk, one hand still bunched in Sans' hoodie to keep track of him. It takes him a few minutes to talk again.  
"Wait, f'we're going home, can't we just...?" Space folds as easily as it always does, but the landing is clumsy and a good foot above the floor. Gaster doesn't know exactly where they are, it's pitch black and hot. "Oh, damn.."  


S: "Shit." Sans fumbles around, still clinging to Gaster's sleeve. He tries to determine what the shapes he's touching are, but through the buzz of his skull and his drunken haze it's hard to figure out. What is this? A lamp, a light switch? He turns it on, and the sudden flood of light in his eye sockets is skull-splitting. Augh....  


G:: Gaster is just as confused and offended until his eyes adjust, and then he just starts breathlessly snickering.  
"Closet." Why is everything he wears the same color? He feels until he finds the door through the fabric to let them out.  


S: Sans stumbles out of the closet and onto the floor, laughing, his patellas scraping on smooth tile. "LEast we weren't in the wall, huh?" He'd hate to have to Kool-Aid through Gaster's bedroom wall to get out.... Shit, he's drunk.  


G:: "Or the duckwork. Duc. D-u-c-t-work." He hasn't been this drunk in a long, long time. Gaster follows Sans out of the closet, a sweater sleeve wrapped around his ankle. He kicks it off, loses coordination, and has to grab onto the wall to keep standing.  
"Nnf, god. Alright, lemme. Let me sit. For just a second."  


S: "I'm just gonna stay here." He's gonna stay on the floor, in a vague little pile of Gaster's clothes. It.... kinda smells like him? .... Ew.

Well, not ew. But ew, Sans is gross.

Good, logical drunk thinking here. "Okay. You sit down, I stay here. Then we- regroup. Get those thinking brains together."  


G:: Gaster tries to just sit but winds up half-sprawled on his bed instead. He shrugs out of his robe, feeling too warm. The sweater probably doesn't help, but he lacks the balance to get back upright at the moment.  
"Will we be making that machine? For the benefit of monsterkind?"  


S: "Uh." Sans struggles to get up.  
"Can you operate a wrench right now? 'Cause. I. Cause I don't think I can." The floor isn't very comfortable....  


G:: "Maybe. Maybe just for our benefit. So it can wait." Gaster finally realizes Sans is still on the floor and huffs a laugh at him.  


S: "We'll make it sober, so we can- we can't already be drunk when it's done, or we can't use it." Sans finally manages to sit up. He blinks up at Gaster, snickering under his breath.  
  
"To think I hated you earlier."  


G:: It startles him, and Gaster's laugh grows louder for a moment. When he quiets again, he still speaks through rough snickers.  
"Certainly didn't stop you."  


S: "It never does ." Man, but he likes hearing him laugh. Gaster doesn't laugh like that anymore, does he? He always laughs the other way. The sharp, cold way.  
"I'm a mess , huh?" He clambers up onto the bed by pulling himself up, and flops down facefirst into it. He's not too close to Gaster, just sort of... sprawled.  
"You're laughing, though. S'good."  


G:: "You are, too." Gaster feels Sans' shifting weight on the mattress and turns his head to watch him clamber up. His eyes scan from the top of Sans' skull to the soles of his sneakers.  
"Still working towards that award, hn?"  


S: Sans flushes, buries his face in the sheets. God, he's gross. But he's drunk. That's an excuse, right?  
"Depends. S'not a solo project." Maybe he can just... sleep here. Close to him. Share a bed. That'd be enough, right?

(No, of course it wouldn't. But he'll take what scraps he's given.)  


G:: Gaster closes his eyes, nods, and adjusts so he's not pinning one shoulder at an awkward angle. He's quiet and still for a solid five minutes, plenty of time to drunkenly consider whatever pros and cons there are. His conclusion? Who cares.

Gaster hums lowly and rises up onto an elbow, reaches out to grab Sans' cuff.  
"I am still not sure I've had any _fun_ yet."  


S: Sans feels more than hears his own nervous laugh, scooting closer. He's wearing shoes on the bed... Rude. He swallows down another laugh as he looks over Gaster, trying not to let it show how ...

How overwhelmed he already feels.

"There's lots of fun. To be had." God, can he get any lamer? _I'm drunk, that's why I suck at this._ If he keeps telling himself that, he can have an excuse. He kicks off one shoe and uses his toes to pull off the other. They land on the floor with loud thumps.  


G:: If he moves too fast the room tilts oddly, but Gaster just corrects that by moving slow and with purpose. Even if he's a little off-target with some movements, drunkenly clumsy. The hand at Sans' cuff wraps around his wrist and pulls him closer, perhaps a little fast.  
"We are going to feel like death in the morning." It's not a warning. Just a statement of fact.

S: Sans feels a weird wave of nausea at the sudden movement, and he already knows he's going to be sick come hangover tomorrow.

Who cares? Who cares, who cares.  
"That's for future me to deal with." All of this is. He reaches out his free hand- the one not held tight by Gaster- and presses it to Gaster's ribs. Swallows. Slow and steady wins the race. He wonders if he's dreaming.  


G:: "Nn. We will just turn it back if we need." Gaster presses Sans' wrist down onto the bed, curling over him. He's so small in comparison.  


S: Gaster looks, feels so tall towering over him. Sans' wrist pinned where it is sends a rush down his spine, an ache to his marrow. This is real this is real this is real .  
"What, and do it all over again?" Or stop it from happening? He laughs, breathy and nervous, and his hand fidgets where it's sitting on Gaster's ribs. He feels out the shape of them through his sweater, and Sans feels his own rising and falling with over-eager breath. He's so drunk and woozy, but the places he's pinned stay still in the spinning room.  


G:: Gaster grunts shortly rather than genuinely responding. His other hand takes Sans' chin and tilts it to one side, so he can scrape his teeth over the newly exposed vertebrae. The bone-on-bone sound is dry and rasping and echoes inside his mouth.  


S: Sans guesses he should have expected it, known that's where they were going, but he still gasps. The dry scrape of bone feels entirely different than Grillby on him with heat and pressure. Rawer. Sharper. His hand bunches up Gaster's sweater, pulling, and his pinned hand curls tight. The room keeps on, he's so dizzy.  
"Oh."  


G:: Right, this is about fun, isn't it? Gaster tries to think back to what exactly used to be fun about all of this, but unfortunately.. Well, neither of them can really oblige that. So he has to think what he once found to be fun on his own, and the list is pathetically short. Well. Improvisation is the father of progress or however that saying goes.

Another hand pops into existence and finds its way, also drunkenly, down to one of Sans' knees. Ugh, how many of these is he going to be able to keep up? Maybe as few as necessary is best. "Spread your legs."  
  


S: Oh. This is all a bit fast, isn't it? But then, how did he picture things going with Gaster?

In all honesty, his fantasies have been so vague. Tenderness and closeness. Breath. Gaster's hands on him, everywhere all at once.

He complies, and it strikes him how obedient he always is with the Doc. _Spread your legs, Sans. Get to work, Sans. Come with me, Sans. Three bags full, sir._ There's a tremor up his spine. Gaster is really touching him. His voice gets stuck when he tries to talk, and his words are slurred too.  
"C'n I take this off?" He pulls on the sweater again.

G:: "Hn?" Oh, he hadn't even realized. Gaster lets go of Sans and vaguely struggles with his sweater to pull it off over his skull. Doesn't much see why it matters, never did. It isn't like he has genitals.The sweater goes off over the side of the bed, and Gaster pulls Sans closer by his hips, so his thighbones are on either side of him.

S: Sans' hands move to Gaster's femurs, drawn like magnets, now that he's free to touch him. He's a little woozy from being pulled around so fast. He's holding on as much for stability as to feel him. After he catches his breath a second he lets himself indulge a little more, fingerbones questing up spine. He finds Gaster's own implant at the base of his spine. It's not as neat or as small as Sans' is, and there's a few distracted moments where he's just playing with it.  


G:: Gaster tunes in to Sans' fascination for a minute or two, drawn to distraction by Sans' distraction. His own implant is long, long past the point of being tender, and the bone around it is tougher and thicker than Sans' will ever be. The benefits of the newer model.  
"And what d'you think you are doing?"  


S: "It feels so different." He feels information tumbling out before he can really stop himself.  
"I played with mine a whole lot, you know? Cause it hurt, but kinda- _good_ \- but I guess yours wouldn't, anymore. Probably don't feel anything." Not as thick as the bone is right here.... Sans keeps running his fingerbones over it.  


G:: "You _played_ with it." Gaster knows what that means, and the way he says it makes it obvious he knows. He's smirking a little, drunkenly teasing.  
"You really do have it bad." A hand finds its way under Sans' shirt, and he thumps against the metal plate there.  


S: Sans flinches with it, but it's obvious from the look on his face that it's a particular _kind_ of flinch. His femurs squeeze tighter around Gaster, a little shudder running up his spine. "I know, sorry, it's- gross-" How are you today, Sans? Oh, you know. I'm good. Got drunk, came onto my mentor, told him in bed that I routinely get off touching the deadly weapon he installed in me.  He finally tears his hands away from Gaster's implant to touch higher on his spine, varied between feeling out vertebrae and pressing cartilage.

G:: Gaster rasps a laugh and curls back over Sans, pressing him back against the mattress.  
"The one hit point wonder has a masochistic streak, tell me the odds." He lines their pelvices up, grinding down. The scrape of bone is unpleasant, bordering on irritating, but Gaster is laughing all the same.

S: "Nh!" It feels kind of- _bad_ , but- as Gaster already knows- Sans. Is kind of into it. He curls his hand tight around Gaster's spine, squeezing, and his own eyes squeeze shut.  
"If you're gonna have a masochist streak, might as well go full risky with it, right?" Might as well run the risk of being dusted by so much as a punch.

G:: That's kind of irritating, too, Sans' fumbling about. Gaster takes both of his wrists this time and holds them against the mattress over Sans' skull. Well... He can stand to use a little more magic, it isn't too much. A set of helping hands spring up to creep up the inside of Sans' ribs and walk down Gaster's own spine, making him shudder.  


S: Sans' pinned wrists feel solid and secure even through the drunk fog and the haze of being....

_Impossibly_ turned on. Already.

The hands in his ribs make him shiver, Gaster's shivers make him shiver. He's going to rattle himself to pieces before this is over, isn't he? He's too drunk for this.  
"What do you. What'd you like me to- anything you wanna...."  


G:: "Shh shh, hush up." Gaster sways a little with his center of balance as odd as it is. He spreads his knees out, and that makes it a little better. One hand flits down to the drawers below the bed, another searches the wall for an outlet, another turns out that annoying bright light in the closet while the other flicks on his blacklight.  


S: It's far easier on Sans' eyes, and in the drunk haze, a little hypnotic. Gaster is a bright smear of white bone in the dark, almost like the soft and vague things he first called up before he could properly call the blasters.

He strains to try and look what Gaster's hands are doing, turning his head. It's hard to move, pinned down, femurs spread too far by Gaster's knees, and the frustration is kinda.

Kinda incredible.  


G:: Gaster groans again and shoves himself close, lining them up again. If he can.. just get it right. Nn, close enough.  
"Stop wiggling so much.." Gaster cuts off most of the hands, phasing them back out except for what he needs. He finds the outlet and the plug, connects everything up, and settles the head of the wand against where they meet.  


S: Sans falls very, very still in sudden wonder and anticipation. Is that.... Gaster keeps sex toys up here?? That. That's so strangely incredibly hot. He must normally use this by himself.... Oh, man. Now he and Sans are going to... oh, wow.

Sans feels the sweat beading on his browbone, the rise and fall of his ribs. He keeps his eyes locked on Gaster as close as he can. He keeps telling himself he needs to remember, as clear as he can despite the alcohol, what Gaster will look like while enjoying himself.  


G:: "Better, that's better." Gaster mostly seems to be talking to himself, his eyes a little glassy and unfocused. He realizes, vaguely, that he still has pants on. Sans does, too... Doesn't matter. The hand holding the wand flicks the switch to the lowest setting, and he shudders with a low groan.  


S: The sound, at least, is dampened a little by the fabric of Gaster's pants and Sans' shorts. Not completely- there's the loud, droning buzz of the toy, and the distinct rattle of it against bone. But it's not as loud as it could be. Which means Sans' surprised and almost desperate moan can be heard as a spike of pleasure arcs up through him. It's almost _painful_ , it's so intense.  
"Oh fuck ..."

G:: Gaster laughs raspily close to Sans' jaw, his hands squeezing and relaxing around Sans' wrists with the waxing and waning intensity. "Correct," is all he can manage to say, rather matter-of-fact about it.

S: Oh fuck, oh fuck. The pulsing thrum of the toy against bone, against cartilage, runs hard up Sans' spine, through his pelvis, and he whimpers. He turns until he's got his face pressed close to Gaster's, can struggle to listen to Gaster's breath against his own. His fingers curl tight, still pressed flat by Gaster's hands. He's utterly at his mercy.

Lord, but he's wanted this so bad.

And oh, he wants to memorize every second.

"S'good." And then, following a choked moan and a whimpered laugh, "the hell do i get one of these?"

G:: "Make one. Nhn, made all of them." But this is his favorite, based on a human design he picked up somewhere.

Gaster shudders again, his breath stuttering, and rocks his hips against the malleable head.

S: It rocks it against Sans in turn, and his pelvis bucks helplessly up against the pressure. He's sweating so much... "All of em? You must have- nnh- treasure trove." He keeps picturing Gaster in here, pleasing himself with all these hypothetical toys. God, that's hot. God, he's hot moving against Sans like this. This feels so painfully, overwhelmingly good.

G:: Gaster hisses, his teeth grit, sweat popping up on his own forehead. "Are you going to keep muttering like that?" He moves the wand across Sans' pelvis, concentrating the vibrations there in an effort to get him quiet.

S: Sans jolts, some sentence dying in his throat in place of a pathetic little moan. Shit, that's intense. For someone whose teeth stay clamped together, he sure can't keep his mouth shut, can he? He feels his femurs twitching. He nods, short and sharp, not even sure what he's agreeing to. Yes, he'll stay quiet? Yes, keep doing that? Yes, anything Gaster wants?

G:: "Better."

Gaster is mostly using his real hands for support, his fingerbones locking and grinding against the delicate sections of Sans' wrists. He rocks down onto the wand again, building his own rhythm.

S: Sans can't bruise, and for a while he laments that. The way Gaster is pinning him is painful, dull ache from his wrist bones grinding together as they're squeezed, grating bone on bone as Gaster presses down on him. He feels like he might be drooling , it's so intense. The way Gaster moves against the toy, the way the toy moves against him, it teases between just barely enough pressure and far, far too much. His whole pelvis, his spine, his ribs are tingling. Over-sensitive. He's moaning against Gaster's skull, face pressed to him.

G:: God, he is loud. And whiny. Gaster is getting the impression he should have done this on his own and sent Sans on his merry old way. He grunts lowly, straightening out until he's towering over Sans. God, he's a mess, too. "Nnf, gross," Gaster mutters, wiping saliva off his cheekbone.

S: It takes a second for Sans to regain feeling in and control of his hands. When he finally does, he grabs the hem of his shirt to scrub at his face, hurried and embarrassed. There are tears pricking at his eye sockets, too.... he wipes those away next. Gaster looks so enormous over him like this.... a high tower of glowing white bone in the dark. Sans knows Gaster is grossed out by him. Somehow it makes his hips rock against the toy harder, and he throws a newly freed arm over his eyes out of embarrassment.

G:: "Are you like this with all your lovers?" They must have to wash their sheets a lot.

S: Was he like this with Grillby? Well, maybe a little. Not.... this drooly. "Need more data before I can draw that conclusion," he mumbles. "Only two variables right now." Cool, talk about science in bed while he's drunk and drooly and desperately grinding on a sex toy while admitting he's inexperienced. That'll really turn Gaster on.

G:: Gaster tuts, tilts his head, sighs. It comes across as more than a little patronizing. "Oh, dear." He's quite the cradle-robber this time, isn't he? "Turn over. If you have to look so pathetic, do so into the mattress."

S: He nods, manages to hold back his sniffle (which is no small feat, and he's proud of himself) and turns over. His pelvis is still tingling from the toy, even after he moves away from it to shift onto his knees. His hips are lifted, face buried in the mattress, hands grasping for something to hold and tangling into the bed sheets. He knows how pathetic he must look, but he waits for Gaster to touch him again anyways, feeling small and needy.

G:: Sans' shirt bunches, pulls, and exposes his lumbar. One of Gaster's hands wraps around them and slides up under the fabric, following up his spine before settling between his shoulders. He presses down, popping several vertebrae, before settling the wand in the shape of Sans' pelvic floor.

S: To his credit, the desperate noise he makes is mostly muffled by the mattress. This probably suits Gaster just fine. The pressure of him holding Sans down aches up and down Sans' spine, and his hips buck against the toy. "S'almost too much, s'too much, oh god-"

G:: "You can take it," Gaster huffs. He spots more bone as Sans wiggles like a worm on a line, the flash of more exposed thigh higher up.. With one hand, Gaster roughly bunches one leg of Sans' shorts, and the other switches the wand from its place atop cloth to directly on bone.

S: The sound is kind of hilarious. Or it would be, if Sans wasn't rattling apart. The joints between his thigh and his pelvis trembles with the exertion of holding himself up while the wand is pressed to bare bones; the ktktktktktktktktkt of it at least manages to drown out Sans' frantic breath. He's so squirmy , kind of trying to inch away from the wand while simultaneously pressing back against it. He's definitely teary-eyed. He's also kind of laughing.

G:: Gaster sneers and tuts, would shake his head but the world lags when he moves too fast. Another hand creeps up Sans' skull cap to find purchase, fingers spreading wide to dip into his eye sockets and get a grip. He presses until those noises are as quiet as they're going to get, muffled by the sheets and pillows and bed. "Really, get ahold of yourself." It's annoying.

S: He doesn't know how he's supposed to be still and silent and well behaved while this is thrumming so hard on, against, in him. The intrusion of fingers into his eye sockets is violent and intimate and he keeps trying to blink them out. It's also lucky breathing is...more a luxury than a necessity.  
Gaster apparently wants a corpse as his partner.  
But he tries, he tries so hard. He trembles, but he stays still, lets Gaster position him how he wants, keeps the whimpering down. All that's left is feeling , and oh _god_ , it feels. So good it hurts.

G:: "There you go, thatta boy." Gaster curls back over him, his hands sliding to slip Sans' shorts over his hips. The cord will be tangled later, but that is a problem for later.

Nn, he is trying _awfully_ hard to behave. Gaster supposes that is commendable, considering. He pets along his spine, his fingers curling and tweaking at the knobs and peaks of Sans' vertebrae.

S: It's an extra level of good , something soothing and pleasurable and soft to counteract the hard thrumming and shoving and pulsing of the toy. The praise radiates through the marrow of him, a rush of achy and desperate affection. He wants to thank Gaster, to sob, to fall apart, but he just nods, small and soft, pressing his hips back against Gaster as he curls over Sans. All the places he's being touched feel tingly and sharp. His eyes squeeze shut, fingers bunching in the sheets. Good, so good, he's got to be good. It feels so good.

G:: He's so small, it's easy for Gaster to just. Envelope him. His teeth scrape against Sans' jaw, nipping on bone.   
"Overwhelmed?" Speaking when spoken to works better, in Gaster's experience. The pathetic that irritated him is starting to come across as a little endearing now that Sans isn't so damned loud about it.

S: Sans nods, which just scrapes Gaster's teeth more over his jaw and that makes him tremble again. When he manages to speak, his voice is raw and hoarse from... overexertion, earlier.   
"S'a lot." He presses up into the places he's being touched, but Gaster folding over him means he's kind of everywhere , and it feels... strangely comforting. Being enveloped, swallowed up, pinned down.

G:: "Numbing, even?" Gaster laughs, it rasps on his rib. His breath still smell like liquor, sweet and smokey. "Maybe too much for one like you."

S: "I can- I can take it." He wants to take it. He... is going to go numb, if he's not careful. But he wants to take it, prove he can. Prove he's worthy.

_Like me, look how good I can be, look how much I like what you do to me, like me, praise me, I want you to like me_.

His femurs are trembling, trying to hold out. He arches up to Gaster a little more, again. "Keep on."

G:: Gaster presses close, his pelvis sliding against Sans' again. The wand is powerful enough so he gets a bit of the vibration through bone, but he knows it isn't strong enough to get him anywhere close to off. That will be a little later, then. "I knew you could."

S: _Be proud of me, be proud of me, feels so good_ \- Sans feels himself breathing hard against the sheets, ribs heaving under Gaster, trying so hard to be still and quiet and good even though he feels like he's going to burst holding it all in. His voice is low and raspy and he thinks he's kind of messing up Gaster's sheets.   
"I'm- I'm really close, I-" He's shaking all over, but he's trying so hard to hold still.

G:: "Obviously." He can feel the tremors of Sans giving out, not just the vibrations from the toy. It's... entertaining, Gaster has to admit, seeing how hard Sans is trying just to please him. Fulfills some dark, nasty thing in the back of his head. It's new, but not unexpected with the course of how things have been going. "Come on, Sans, mm?"

S: _Thank you thank you thank you_. Sans groans a very soft, nearly desperate " yes " and then he can't hold on any longer and his femurs tremble and his spine teases tight and he's gone, gone, face pressed to the sheets, teeth separating. He keeps the sound down, though, can't stop the twitching and bucking but he can keep quiet. It radiates all through him, drawn out and intense and still pulsing through him with the toy still pressed to him.

G:: Whimpering, he's whimpering. It's something Gaster didn't used to like, he knows, and now it's. Appealing. Not that it completely erases how he's always felt about it.. Oh, this is an interesting conundrum, isn't it?

The hand holding the wand lifts it away and switches it off while another tilts Sans' chin back up. Uck, he's an absolute mess, leaving dark spots on the sheets. "Look at you, what a sloppy mess."

S: "I'm sorry." He's still so quiet and raspy. Tears somewhere back in his eye sockets, but not too much, not going to well up and spill over. He's so tingly all over, still coming down, still feels good everywhere. He wants to thank Gaster, feels the need to. "Th. Thank you."

G:: "Nn, that's my boy." Gaster hums, laughs lowly, swipes slobber from Sans' mouth, and wipes it onto his hoodie. He's still shaking, overexertion obvious from how he trembles down his spine. Gaster scrapes over bone again, his jaw opening up to frame Sans' cervical vertebrae with his teeth.

S: Sans tips his head back to let him, bares his bones, Gaster could snap his neck right now and Sans would let him. Would thank him, maybe. His knees are giving out but he tries to keep himself upright. That's my boy, that's my boy. Possessive and proud, and Sans thinks coming so hard has sobered him up enough to cling to the memory, keep it shoved deep in his skull. "Thank you," he repeats, soft.

G:: Gaster hums gently for a minute, two, entirely for his own entertainment. He allows Sans to regain his breath and build a bit of his strength back up. This is quite a big deal for him, isn't it, with how long he's been pining? Euch.

"Are you ready?"

S: Ready for what?

It doesn't matter, he suppose, he'll take whatever Gaster is giving, and gladly. He's not shaking so hard by the time he nods, is breathing, holding himself up a little better. Gaster is still over him, body seems to keep the light and air away from Sans, keep him in the cage of his ribs.  
"Yeah. Yeah."

G:: "Mm, good boy." Sans certainly seems to enjoy that. Gaster may be using it liberally soon, depending on how this goes. He spreads his knees a little wider, caging in Sans', grinds that sweet spot on his pelvis against those pleasant little bumps down Sans' sacrum, and settles the head of the wand back into his pelvic floor. "You do not have to be quiet this time."

He flicks the wand back on, sighing at the pleasant tingle of the dampened vibrations.

S: Sans' first sound is somewhere between broken gasp and strangled sob. He's still so sensitive , the thrum is so much . But oh, _god_ , Gaster is using Sans' body to please himself. The friction of his pelvis against Sans' is almost harsh, but the pressure and the motion are so impossibly erotic.

The transfer of vibration through him makes him feel like. Well, like a toy. Like Gaster is playing with him.

It's fucked how much he likes that.  
The groans are lower and hoarser than before, more agonized than frantic, but he is so good and stays so still so Gaster can rub off on him just how he likes.

G:: Gaster snickers close to Sans' jaw, the sensation hardly enough to get him going again. Especially after Sans took so long. But he can work up to it.  
Gaster thinks he may be having fun.  
"Did you know this device has five settings?"

S: " _What?_ " The panic is evident in Sans' voice. His hands grip the sheets tighter but he tries, so hard, to stay still. Gaster is going to wear him to dust. He already knows it. He's going to come, and come, and die, and Gaster will still be using his dust.

This is.

It's. Very hot.

G:: "Do not sound so frightened. We will work through them quickly enough." Gaster flicks the wand up a notch and finds the right spot between two spinous bumps to settle. When he sighs again, there's a waver to it. Yes, that's already feeling better.

S: Oh, _god_. His over-worn bones are thrumming nearly painfully with the harsher vibration, the way he rattles at his joints and where he presses against Gaster. His patellas ache from holding him up.... " _Fuck_. " It sounds pathetic, he sounds pathetic. It's crossed through good and into painful, but he still likes being used like this. That catch in Gaster's voice...

Sans is doing good. Sans is helping him feel good.  
God, at least he can help him with _something_ .

So, he perseveres, even when he feels the whine rising up in his skull and the sweat beading on his browbone.

G:: Gaster winds up with his cheekbone alongside Sans', copying his position nearly exactly, their ribs knocking together as Gaster's breath starts to hitch.   
"You can take it." He flicks the wand up to its halfway point and groans as the vibrations finally start to get to him.

S: Oh, god. Sans' whole body twitches, arching into where Gaster is grinding on him, a full-body jerk as the vibrations rattle through his everything. It's completely past pleasurable, now, tears welling up in his eye sockets. He scrambles until he can grab one of Gaster's hands, squeezing tight, enough that the bones of his hand shake with the effort.

He stays so close to Gaster, though, so close, sharing breath, ribs pressing and pulling apart. Everywhere they touch feels so intense. Sans feels himself climbing towards another precipice, but it's not a fun climb this time. "I can- I can t-take it." His voice is shaking. _Don't cry, don't cry. You like this_. He DOES like it.

G:: "That's my boy." Gaster is edging into impressed. He's done this before, and oh, it did not turn out entirely well. But with Sans so eager to please, he feels free to do as he pleases. The compliance is... intoxicating. He should look into having a proper yes man.

This is not the time to be thinking about that.   
"One more." He feels a proper warning is in order, this time. Sans is about to shake apart as it is.

S: He finally cracks as the next setting pulses through him, something like a sob from between his teeth. He clutches at Gaster's hand, lacing their fingers together, making awful sounds into the mattress. He tries to pull away from the wand, but the pressure of Gaster grinding down on him keeps him pinned. His whole body is captive, caged. He presses his cheek against Gaster's cheekbone, presses as much bone to bone as he can reach.   
"Please, please, please," please what? Please come and end this torture? Please stop?

Please don't ever stop, please keep Sans caged here forever? He's so pathetic, crying because it feels too intense. He's gonna die. Gaster sounds and moves and looks like he's feeling so good, Sans doesn't ever want him to stop.

G:: Now he's the one making a mess, isn't he? Gaster half-grins, baring his teeth as the vibrations seem to penetrate straight through bone and course through his own pelvis. He can feel Sans rattling to pieces beneath him, crushing his fingerbones, begging for something through great big blobby tears.

Gaster realizes, sometime between a blink and a hitched breath, that something is probably more wrong with him than he originally thought.

"Be my guest-" And the -st comes out as a sharp hiss, his teeth clamping shut as the shockwave ripples all the way up his spine and bounces around in his skull.

S: It feels like getting hit by a train, if he's honest.

He comes like an atom bomb, more a pressure he can't hold back anymore than anything like pleasure or enjoyment. He feels - _boneless_ , struggling to hold himself up on knees begging to give out. His sobs are more dry cracking voice and breath than sound. Gaster is still moving against him so hard, the toy is still pressed so tight to him, and it goes on and on and on until he's sure he'll black out. He presses his face to Gaster's, whispering some kind of plea (are these even words, at this point?), still clutching his hand tight.   
"Use me use me use me-"

G:: Gaster manages to hold out for a few seconds, but eventually he can no longer maintain the extra hands. His concentration breaks and the wand drops away to buzz ineffectually against the mattress before he can fumble it off. He's left panting against Sans' vertebrae, sound ringing, his chest expanding and collapsing at a fast pace as he slowly comes down. He's bone-tired. Knows Sans is in a pathetic state far worse.

Eventually he manages to calm a little and swallow and pull away from Sans. He bumps them together again out of sheer clumsiness, scrapes the sensitive cartilage, hisses from the overstimulation, before finally settling back to sit and properly catch his breath.

S: Sans collapses into a boneless heap on the bed, feels like his legs, arms, spine are all overcooked pasta. He's sniffling, still overwhelmed altough he's starting to slowly come down from the second orgasm. God, he really did it, though. He really. He really made Gaster come.

"Did- did I do." Did he do good?

G:: Oh, what a sweet thing. Something twinges in Gaster, and he momentarily hates how that just keeps happening today. He'll deal with it later.   
"You look. Starstruck. And weepy." Said with as much affection as he can muster. It isn't a lot, but he is putting in an effort. More than he can say for how he he's been acting elsewhere.

He stretches a hand out to place atop Sans' skull, running his thumb over a browbone while he catches his breath. Euch, clammy, but what else should he expect? He put Sans through the wringer tonight.

S: Sans nuzzles up into his hand off more instinct than anything, eyes slipping shut. He feels the edges of his consciousness fuzzing, all too ready to pass out. His voice is hoarse, his eye sockets still feel damp. "That's. That's a good way to put it."

Was it like he imagined it'd be?

_No. Not really._

Maybe better in some ways. Certainly more fitting than whatever gentle, tender images he had floating around of the two of them.

G:: "Your clothes are going to stink tomorrow." He sees the dark patches of sweat at Sans' armpits and down his spine, they never managed to get his shirt and hoodie off of him. Oh, his socks are still on, gross. " _You_ are going to stink tomorrow, but that can be remedied easier than your clothes." His breathing has returned to normal now, calm and unworried about... whatever this is between them now.

S: Sans knows he's in store for a crisis. Of conscience, maybe. Or of self-loathing. But it can wait. He can wait.   
"D'you have a laundry up here?" He can throw his things on to wash before he passes out.... He does feel damp and gross all over. It's, admittedly, not a new or unusual feeling. But he doesn't want to smell bad in the lab tomorrow.

G:: Gaster shakes his head and busies himself ridding Sans of those filthy clothes. "I send off my laundry to a business in Capitol. You will either have to go home in the morning or borrow something."

S: Being stripped is a strange and odd sensation. It would possibly be pleasant, if his limbs were cooperating. But they're not, so he mostly ineffectively struggles to get out of his shirt and hoodie.

The idea of borrowing Gaster's clothes is undeniably tempting. But it'd also be a loud and clear broadcast to... well, to everyone of what happened.   
"I'll pop home. In the morning. 'N get a change." That way he'll also come back in from home. No one will be the wiser.... "Can I, uh. Can I stay. Tonight, though?"

G:: "Nn." Gaster manages to pop Sans' shirt off over his head, and he momentarily drops a hand down to brush knuckles around the rim of Sans' pelvis. "Do as you please."

S: It makes Sans shudder, a strange little gift of affection he doesn't know what to do with. He kicks off his shorts the rest of the way, and uses his toes to pull his socks off. God, why won't his legs cooperate.... He hesitantly inches into a better position on the bed, not just sprawled across the middle of it. That is, unless Gaster makes him sleep in his own drool spot like he's punishing a bad dog...

G:: Gaster grunts lowly and finds a spot on his bed that isn't too close to Sans. It... puts him in a place that he hasn't worn down in his mattress, just a spot a tinier bit higher and uneven. He could just kick Sans out, he knows. But he finds a suitably comfortable position right as he's considering it, a couple knuckles just barely brushing against Sans' spine. "When we wake up, you will be getting the water and aspirin."

S: Sans should protest- drinking was Gaster's idea, wasn't it, and he's been put through far more tonight. But the little brush of knuckles, how close he is in the dark- shining white bone under the purple light- makes it hard to tell him 'no'.

So Sans just groans softly by way of response and tugs the blanket over the both of them. He's right on the edge of passing out, as is.

G:: "You did well." It's what Gaster substitutes rather than goodnight, considering it's probably far too late in the morning to get any proper sleep.

S: _I'm a sucker_ is the last thought that crosses through his head, but he still conks out smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're quickly approaching the precipice of the ending, and I'm at a bit of an impasse.
> 
> Ideally, there was going to be at least one more chapter between this and The End- the contents of which would be largely new. The main problem is that I've had some difficulty coordinating that with the co-author as a section of RP. The delays have mostly been IRL related, as co-author and I have moved into a new house and taken on more responsibilities at our respective jobs, as well as working con tables during con season. It's probably going to be a second before we can write that chunk together, which could delay the end for a Long Time.
> 
> So my solution would be this: While I know that those who've read the Google Doc were looking forward to an amended ending with new content, that's most likely not going to happen speedily. What I'm going to do instead is post a (mildly) amended ending, which has some breaks built in where the content will fit. After posting the complete work, I'll later on add a side work which includes all the "bonus content" (read: the stuff I wanted to include first) with the implication it fits in the gaps.
> 
> It's been like 4,000,000 years since I last updated this, sorry guys.


End file.
